


The Heart of Fate

by sarcastic_fina



Series: Fate [1]
Category: Smallville, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Temporary Character Death, season 5 remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-19
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 212,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a little help from Cupid, Dean gets exactly what he needs. </p><p>[Season 5 rewritten with the inclusion of Dean's soul mate, Chloe Sullivan]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

   
  ([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))  
 

**Prologue**.

_Dean looked up to the sky and with a well of emotion in his throat and tears clouding his eyes, he pleaded with whoever was listening, “Please… I can’t… I need some help… Please…”_

Ask and ye shall receive.

…

David was a cherub; better known to the human world as _Cupid_. He was easily excited, generous and often greeted people with a hug rather than a handshake. Childlike in his personality, he had only one goal in life: to bond humans together and set them on their course of life. It was love that David focused on; giving it to all those who deserved it. Fate, a fickle matter to some, was what his business was based upon. And so when his orders came, he was giddy with newfound enjoyment as he went fluttering about the earth, naked as newborn babe, searching for the one woman who would fit the man he had in mind.

Orders were orders, and while often it involved putting together a couple that would procreate and bring about a child of great importance, in this instance it was a child borne of a previous order that was destined to find his intended. Whether children would come of these two was not pre-destined or ordered, but instead it was a matter of heart that would help guide the man to his greater purpose.

David cared not for the worries or problems the earth bound humans faced; he wanted only for them to feel and enjoy the love he offered them. And so it was with an extra clap to his hands, that he set his sights on the busy and overwhelmed blonde woman below who had no idea what she was about to be entangled in. The marking on her heart would fit only one other and whether she was ready or not, it was time she met him.

There was a rustle in the air as David moved swiftly, invisible to the human eye, and sent his powers out to wrap tightly around the harried young woman. What she wouldn’t’ see was the pink and yellow light that escaped his fingertips and enveloped her skin before melting into her chest cavity and revitalizing the mark imprinted purposefully on her heart. She gave a shudder as a tingle ran down her spine, looked about in curious suspicion but saw nothing.

As David smiled excitably, he nodded to one half of a duo meant for great things. It was time to unite hearts and begin journeys. With a giggle of enthusiasm, he left Chloe Sullivan to her work and set out to find Dean Winchester; he had to set the spark in the man meant to save the world from destruction.

It was, after all, their destiny.


	2. Prologue

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**I**.

Dean Winchester was driving his much loved Impala, glaring darkly at the waste of highway ahead of him while Sam slept uncomfortably next to him. Now that his little brother was cleansed of demon blood, _again_ , it was time they got back to work. But as he drove through the night the tense set of his shoulder made an ache climb the back of his neck. He was a few hours from the next town where a beat-up motel would house them for the night and a restless sleep would leave him less than cheerful for tomorrow. Metallica played dimly in the background, not enough to help his frazzled nerves, but he didn't bother turning it up since it might mean waking Sam. Usually, he could care less, but he wasn't in the mood to chat, especially not when he was feeling angry and a little betrayed by another slap-in-the-face involving Sammy and his addiction to the less-than-kosher.

As he sat brooding, he felt a breeze against his neck and the little hairs stood on end in awareness. He checked his mirror, wondering if maybe Cas had snuck up on them, but the backseat was empty. With all the windows rolled up, he was at a loss for where the breeze was coming from. Strong enough that it sent the car freshener dancing, he frowned darkly. And then… a shiver ran down his back and spread across his skin. He shifted, rolled his shoulders and felt a shift in his chest; almost a sting of electricity. As quickly as it happened, it was gone. But some part of him couldn't help but feel like something huge just happened.

With no evidence to back him up, he had no choice but to shrug it off as a lack of sleep and an uncomfortably long ride.

Scowling, he leaned back and rubbed his eyes clear. He still had a long drive to go and he wasn't going to let paranoia get the best of him.

…

Chloe was feeling weird. Not so unusual since her life was anything but ordinary, but lately she'd been feeling like something was _missing._ And it wasn't an item like her cell phone or keys, but more a physical loss of connection. She had known, without a doubt, that her life had become entirely too work oriented, and she'd hidden from the truth of it for so long she could almost convince other people she was fine. But her friends weren't stupid; on the contrary, they were actually quite brilliant. So she wasn't so surprised when they staged an intervention on her behalf.

"We just think you should take some time for yourself," Victor argued, staring her down. "Relax and reboot."

She pursed her lips plainly. "I'm _fine_."

"You're worn out," Oliver replied, arms crossed firmly over his chest. "And if you don't take a break soon, you'll be _burned_ out."

Sighing, she shook her head. "I can handle it. I'm _been_ handling it."

"Which is why we're stepping in." Oliver dropped an envelope briskly before her. "Inside you'll find a Visa card, a set of keys, and a map. Go wherever you want, _do_ whatever you want… You're taking a vacation Chloe and I won't put up with it any other way."

Flabbergasted, she leaned forward. "You can't just… I can't just _leave!_ "

"Why?" Bart wondered, half-shrugging. "You work harder than all of us combined, _mamacita!_ You deserve this! Get out, see the sun again, remember what life was like before us crazy heroes."

Chewing her lip, her shoulders fell. "Maybe I just don't _want_ to, have you ever thought of _that_?" She knew she sounded petulant and she didn't care.

"Yes," Oliver said, nodding. "Which is why this isn't a choice…" Stepping closer, he leaned down, palms pressed sternly against her desk. "You're taking this vacation. Six weeks, Sidekick. And let me make this plain to you… Either you go and you take this time to yourself or we _will_ replace you."

Glaring, she stood up. "You think I'm so replaceable?" she snarled.

"No," AC interrupted, shaking his head. "Which is why we're trying to get you to do this for yourself… We don't want to lose you and we don't want to see you lose yourself. So please…" Walking over to her, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "Get out of here and away from us… Lay in the sun, swim in the ocean, whatever it takes, Chlo… Just don't let all this bad stuff ruin you. You gotta know when to fight and when to lay down and rest. And this is your time!"

"We won't take no for an answer," Victor put in, staring at her with dark, promising eyes. "We'll drag you outta here and force you into a _spa_ if we have to."

She cracked a small smile. "Six weeks," she repeated, her resolve slowly crumbling. "Are you sure _four_ isn't enough? Or even _two_ … I can do two!"

They stared back at her, unmoving.

"Fine!" she muttered on a sigh. "I'll take a vacation."

They grinned warmly.

"Good."

"Yeah…" Bart dropped a couple bags in front of her. "Now I didn't pack your stuff for nothing."

Chloe blinked, lifting a brow. "Who wants to bet this thing is full of lingerie and bikinis?"

Oliver snorted. "Admittedly, when he offered to pack for you I should've been more suspicious."

She chuckled. "It's all right… I think I can spare a half hour to re-pack before I go on this forced vacation of mine." Picking up the envelope, she glanced at her friend and boss. "So what's the limit on this Visa anyway, Queen?"

He smirked. "For you, Sidekick… Limitless."

"Hey!" Bart cried. "Mine's got a five hundred max on it."

"Yeah, well… You'd eat me into poverty if I wasn't careful."

Grinning, Chloe shook her head. "You guys are kind of awesome, you know that?"

Bart sped to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist before wiggling his brows suggestively. "We can always vacay together, 'Licous."

Patting his shoulder, she shook her head. "Thanks for the offer. But I think I'll keep my options open. Who knows what fun and trouble I might get into out there?" With a wink, she left to start packing her things. She had a world of possibilities ahead of her and no idea what she was going to do or who she'd meet. But if she _had_ to vacation for six weeks, the least she could do was make the best of it.

…

Sam was driving him crazy.

"Look, I know you're not the biggest fan of 'talking-it-out' but it's pretty obvious that you're pissed… So are we gonna talk about it or are you gonna brood the whole time?" he asked, staring at him pointedly.

Dean glared. "What d'you think?" he muttered, climbing out of the Impala and making his way toward the bar.

Sam scoffed, watching him go with a dark frown. "So that's it?" Climbing out of the car, he leaned against the open door. "You're just gonna drink and forget about _all_ of it?"

He shrugged. "No. _We're_ gonna drink and forget all about it." Not waiting for him to follow, he pushed the bar door open and swaggered inside. There was a pool game being played in the corner, a couple guys chatting over beers in a booth to the right, and a few people on stools or at tables, just relaxing over a 'weiser and a game of football on the beat-up TV. This was the kind of place that asked no questions; they served your beer, let you sit in peace and quiet, and at no point did they bitch that you needed to share your goddamn feelings.

Taking a seat at the bar, he asked the tender for a Budweiser as he rolled his shoulders and rubbed his neck of the tension that followed him everywhere. Despite looking like any other guy just taking a load off, he still had a ton on his mind. While everyone else was off the job, he was never really done. These poor saps had no idea the apocalypse was on them and some part of him couldn't help but envy them that. But the intended meat-suit of Archangel Michael didn't have a nine-to-fiver and so he had to be on guard at all times. He knew the exact moment the door opened to admit his little brother and his no-doubt pissy mood and he already had a headcount of every guy in the place. He knew the dude at the bar nursing his bourbon had a pistol on his hip; he could see that just from the way the guy sat. He knew there was a hunting knife strapped to the guy with the mullet playing pool; it was in the way he walked, how his feet sat on the ground. He could look unaware but he caught things nobody else would. It's what made him a good hunter; what kept him alive all these long years. Thirty years old and he felt ancient already; life wasn't forgiving, not for him.

When Sam sat down next to him, it was with a glower, but he said nothing and instead asked for a beer of his own. Staying quiet, he sat with his shoulders slouched and a rub to his brows as exhaustion crept clearly into his large frame. Much as his giant of a brother might look just as at ease as anybody else, he'd had the same training and so he no doubt had his instincts on high and wasn't as relaxed as what would appear. It was just one of many downsides to their lifestyle; there was no such thing as down time.

"You heard from Cas yet?" Sam finally asked, peeling the label off his beer absently.

"No," he grunted, his brows furrowing. It wasn't often that Castiel stayed away for long, but he hadn't been back since their screwed up run-in with Famine a little over a week ago. If he never had to meet Cupid, or the cherubs, or whatever the fuck they were called, again, he'd be happy. Having some naked fat guy run around hugging him wasn't exactly his slice of pie. And neither was knowing that his parents were pre-destined, by the hand of God or whoever the hell handed out orders, that they screw just for the sake of him and his brother's birth. Messing with people like that didn't sit right with him and he sure as hell wasn't going to sit around and act like it was a good thing. As far as he was concerned, he'd have been happier _not_ being born, just so long as his parents had gotten to live a little longer and without all the bullshit they had to put up with.

"You think something's up?" Sammy asked, glancing at him.

Dean shrugged. "When _isn't_ something wrong?"

He sighed, rolling his eyes to himself and pulling his hang-dog face. "You're in a great mood tonight."

"What can I say? Something about the apocalypse gets me real cheerful."

"That's not the only thing pissing you off and you know it…" he suggested.

Dean growled under his breath, rubbing his eyes with aggravation. "How many times do I gotta tell you to let it go? Huh? I'm sick and tired of talking about it."

"Really?" Sam argued, eyes wide with sarcasm. "Because I don't remember us _actually_ talking about it… Not _really_."

"Yeah? Well you musta missed the memo, 'cause I'm sure I told you it was done and over with. It happened, move on."

"Yeah… Stuff it all down and forget about it, right?" Sam shook his head, sighing. "Great strategy, Dean. I can see it's really working for you."

He only grunted, ignoring him in favor of a deep gulp of his beer.

But Sam wasn't done, he wasn't about to leave things as they were. He started bitching about all the things they needed to talk about, calling it his 'addiction' rather than what it was. Demon's blood. _Hell._ Why couldn't he just drink and fight and fuck like the rest of them?

He zoned out; the noise, the people, everything. He wanted to put it aside for five goddamn minutes and just have a beer.

But life wasn't so forgiving.

There was a creak, the door opening, and then silence, as if everybody had shut up and taken notice. That was usually a bad sign so Dean turned in his seat to see what had everybody in awe. A woman; blonde, petite, gorgeous. There was a _zing_ in his chest; a sharp jab of attention. And a breeze; he swore there was a sweep of air that rustled past him. Before he knew what the hell he was doing, he was up, walking across the room and standing in front of her.

She stared up, her expression one of surprise. Big green eyes bore into him and slowly, her mouth curved into a smile. "Chloe," she said, as if answering the question he hadn't bothered to ask.

"Dean," he replied.

And then… Then he was kissing her. A complete stranger and he had his hands buried in her hair and his mouth tangled with hers. Not exactly the first time, but it wasn't his usual reaction. Of late, he hadn't been in the mood for screwing around and taking pleasure wherever it came from. But he felt a well of attraction that flamed across his skin and had his fingers itching to tear her clothes from her body.

She tasted like coffee; like morning bliss and pale sunlight streaming through the window to warm his skin. She was soft and her hips pressed indecently perfect against his own.

 _Chloe_.

Hell.

Despite how good it felt, he knew his life just got a whole lot more complicated.  



	3. Chapter Two

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**II**.

Chloe's first week of vacation was spent driving. She had no idea where she was going, but every time she set out to find a destination she wound up in random towns and was on the road by the next morning. Her butt was starting to fall into a permanent sleep from so much sitting and her shoulders ached from the constant position of ten and two. She needed a good, hot meal rather than the drive-thru crap she kept picking up so she could keep on driving. Why she felt such a strong insistence to stay on the road, she didn't know. But for seven days it seemed she had a destination not even _she_ knew about.

And then, suddenly, she was parking in front of some old bar, next to a shiny black Impala. Given the Visa burning a hole in her pocket, she could certainly afford to go just about anywhere. But her feet were quickly hurrying toward the bar doors and it wasn't until they opened and she spotted _him_ that it all finally faded. Seven days of driving and sleeping in whatever motel was closest and the nagging force behind her every move seemed to dim. He crossed the room with a heavy stride; boots clomping, wide shoulders looking impressively intimidating. Even in layered clothing, she could see his physical build easily; all hard, defined muscle. She felt a shudder of desire spread from her shoulders to her thighs.

As he stopped in front of her, his 6'2 frame making her feel even tinier than usual, she felt a breath leave her in a rush. Comfort, content, relaxation, finally.

His hazel eyes stared down at her, searching her gaze for every answer to questions he hadn't asked.

"Chloe," she found herself saying, needing him to know who she was even if she didn't know why she was there.

"Dean."

And then… He leaned down, wrapped a rough hand around the back of her neck, fingers tight in her hair and his mouth swept down and consumed hers. She whimpered for a moment; the rightness of it was all-encompassing. She felt him down to the very tips of her toes; a heat of awareness that made her hips rock forward and press against him. The firm outline of his erection warmed her stomach and feminine approval for her ability to get him so riled up so easily made her toes curl inside her shoes. His lips were firm, slanting against hers possessively. He tasted like beer and angst; sorrow and sadness. Inexplicably, she wanted only to soothe that away. Her hands slid up his chest, palms splayed across his hard pecs and her thumbs rubbing where his heart lay.

She could've spent a lifetime there, in his arms and drinking in his lips.

But then somebody was clearing his throat, tugging on Dean's shoulder and they were forced to break apart.

It was only when there was an obvious step between them that what happened came flying into focus.

_What the hell was she doing?_

Mortified, she blinked rapidly, shook her head and turned around to flee the confines of the bar.

"Oh my god," she muttered under her breath, hurrying toward her car. "Nice work, Chloe… Seven days on vacation and you're so far from reality you're kissing strange men in bars!"

Her hands shook as she stuffed her key into the lock of her car. Despite how ridiculous she felt for what she'd just done, some part of her was desperate to get back in there and finish what they started. It was as the lock finally turned that he appeared outside the door of the bar, looking to and fro, no doubt trying to find the crazy tramp that practically _forced_ herself on him. Rolling her eyes at herself, she felt heat in her face before she climbed inside her car and half-slammed the door. Driving the key into the ignition, she cursed how her hands and now her body were shaking.

He was standing there, staring at her, his brows furrowed as if trying to figure her out.

She felt the most unusual urge to wave at him; whether in hello or goodbye, she didn't know. But then her hand was lifting, moving side to side ever-so-slightly.

And with a half-smile, he waved back.

Before either of them could think on it much, she was pulling out of the parking lot and well on her way on. But that niggling sensation was back; the feeling that she was going in the wrong direction and ignoring her rightful path. She forced it down and focused on finding a place to sleep. Tonight there would be no run-down motels. She was going to make Oliver wish he hadn't given her limitless possibilities and find the nicest, most luxurious hotel she could. She needed a bubble bath, a bottle of wine, and some time to work out what the hell was going on. And more than that, she needed to figure out how to stop herself from turning around and tracking down that handsome piece of masculine perfection for a whole lot of less-than-scrupulous fun.

…

Sam blinked, watching as his brother walked over and planted a very intimate kiss on what appeared to be a complete stranger; not that she was fighting it. While he was used to his brother's behavior around women, this was a little new. He hadn't even had time to flirt with this one before he was dry-humping her in the bar and holding on to her like she was some long-lost love. Feeling it was imperative to stop them before they got naked in front of a roomful of watching strangers he climbed off his stool and walked over to them.

The first three times he called Dean's name, neither of them were reacting. So finally, he cleared his throat and yanked on his brother's shoulder to separate them. Odd, but he found himself scrutinizing their behavior. Drawn away from each other, they stared at one another with glazed eyes that never strayed from each other. But then the woman, whoever she was, seemed to pull herself out of her haze. The embarrassment she was feeling was obvious before she turned around and ran away and Sam couldn't really blame her. Dean, on the other hand, just looked confused and frowned as she disappeared.

"Friends of yours?" Sam asked, squeezing Dean's shoulder to get his attention.

"Huh? What?" He looked back at him, blinking. "Uh, no… No, she's…" With a shake of his head, he was suddenly moving, leaving the bar to seemingly chase after her.

She was in her car now though, ready to drive away and forget the whole ordeal.

Sam watched as the woman looked up, caught sight of Dean, swallowed tightly, and then… _waved_. And Dean waved back. She was gone seconds later, out on the road and leaving them behind.

"Okay… What exactly _was_ that?" he had to ask, his brow furrowed and a frown twisting his lips.

"That was Chloe," Dean murmured. Running a hand over his hair, he shook his head. "And we gotta find her."

Sam blinked. "Why?"

He shrugged, walking to the Impala with purpose in his every stride. "Dunno… Just have to."

With a sigh, Sam followed.

Great. Now Dean was not only ignoring the coming apocalypse, his brother's addiction to demon blood, and the many overflowing but stuffed down feelings he suffered through on a daily basis, but he was adding a woman to the mix. Why'd he get the feeling things were only going to get more complicated?

…

Chloe was lounging in a steaming bathtub full of bubbles that tickled her skin. Light music played in the background, relaxing and romantic, and candles were spread from surface to surface, giving the room a glow. A glass of red wine sat half-empty next to her while she relaxed in the water, sighing contently to herself as she tried her best to focus on anything but what had happened previously. She had five weeks of vacation left and it was obvious she needed to stop chasing after whatever it was her unusual instincts had been taking her. So far she'd gotten nothing but a very haunting kiss out of the deal; she'd been sleeping in crummy motels and eating bad food, all the while letting her hunch drive her in all directions. She was supposed to be on some beach somewhere, with a cabana boy rubbing oil on her back, or road-tripping around America, looking for the World's Largest Whatever.

It was obvious that her priorities were more than a little mixed up and maybe it was just the stress of the job that had her wanting to let loose in a totally un-Chloe way. But whatever it was, it had to stop. Sitting up, she rubbed the satiny water into her skin before wrapping her arms around her upturned legs and resting her chin on her knees. Closing her eyes, she let the music soothe her frayed nerves and wished she could be like any normal human being.

When a knock at the door interrupted her peace and quiet, she rolled her eyes. Climbing from the tub, she wrapped herself in a thin silk robe, tying the belt in a knot at her waist. Unplugging the water, she dragged her fingers through her damp hair and walked to the door to drag it open. She'd been expecting a concierge or even one of the League guys, come to check up on her. What she hadn't expected to see was Dean, from the bar, standing before her with a frown, and the really tall man who'd interrupted them earlier standing uncomfortably at his back.

"You're not the steak and lobster I ordered," she greeted sarcastically, unable to keep her snark at bay when she was out of her element.

Dean's frown twisted in a slight smile. "Musta been a mix up." He lifted a brow, glancing to the side in a show of discomfort. "Can we talk?"

Swallowing tightly, she knew she should say no. She didn't know him, either of them, and it wasn't smart for her to inviting strangers into her room. Especially when the draw she felt to him was so overwhelming it couldn't be natural. But her instincts weren't screaming and before she could talk herself out of it, she'd opened the door and invited them in.

Dean didn't hesitate, crossing the threshold and walking inside, giving a whistle as he looked around. The other man was more uncertain, bowing his head in hello and half-smiling before he stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to blend into the background. He vaguely reminded her of Clark and how he always seemed polite but uncomfortable with his large stature when his personality had been so opposite. But that was a younger Clark and while her best friend was a tender-hearted person, she didn't know this man and couldn't say the same.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Chloe walked toward Dean, lifting a brow. "So…"

"So…" He cleared his throat. "Look… What happened back there was…"

"Weird."

"Right…" He blinked. "But good…"

"Really good," she said without thinking. She felt the flush warm her cheeks but hoped her previous foray in the bath had her skin so red he wouldn't notice.

He grinned. "Yeah…"

Chloe didn't know what else could be added to that and so she stayed silent.

"You in town long?" Dean asked, interrupted the quiet.

"Uh…" She frowned. "To be honest, I have no idea why I'm even _here_."

His brows furrowed.

Feeling like she had to explain, she said, "I'm on vacation. Mandatory. Six weeks of whatever I want and before I knew it I was driving all over America with no real destination."

Dean nodded slowly. "And you would up in some crummy bar?"

"That's the weird thing…" She chewed her lip. "See… A week ago, I got in my car and figured I could go anywhere, do anything… But as soon as I started driving it was like I was meant to be somewhere… I _had_ to get somewhere… And then I was there and suddenly things were… I dunno, it's like I finally got where I was supposed to be." She shook her head, smiling. "Crazy, right?"

Dean glanced at the other man before his eyes fell. "Not the craziest thing I've ever heard, but yeah…"

Chloe smiled, brows lifting. "Yeah, crazy isn't exactly a foreign subject to me."

He stared, waiting.

She shook her head. "Never mind, not a subject I generally share with the public given I'd like to stay _out_ of the loony bin."

He chuckled. "I hear straitjackets are itchy."

"And so confining," she quipped.

They laughed lightly.

"Not to interrupt," the other man said, stepping forward, "But if I could ask a few questions…"

Chloe glanced at Dean wonderingly.

"Right, this is my brother, Sammy. He's a brain."

"Oh." She nodded before holding a hand out. "Hi, nice to meet you. Chloe Sullivan."

He took it but his expression was wary. "Sam."

She half-smiled. "So… questions?"

"Yeah…" He cocked a brow. "Uh, where are you from?"

"Metropolis," she replied. "Well, Smallville before that for a few years but originally Metropolis."

"Okay… And have you been suffering any weird symptoms… People following you or a disturbance at home or anything?"

She blinked. "Here's the thing… That job I'm vacaying from, it's not exactly normal… So all of those things, pretty average stuff for me."

Dean and Sam exchanged a look.

"What kind of work is that?" Sam wondered, crossing his arms over his chest.

She narrowed her eyes. "The private kind."

He frowned but didn't push. "Look, I just want to figure out what's going on."

"In the words of my infamous cousin, I'd say this was just me letting loose and your brother was the unfortunate subject." Scowling now, she sighed. "So look, much as I appreciate you guys stopping in to heighten the embarrassment, I'd like to get back to what I was doing."

Dean glared at his brother. "We're not trying to make this worse, it's just…" He leaned forward, his voice lower than usual. "When you walked in, something just… changed. It was like…" He shrugged. "Like something was drawing me to you and that's…"

She chewed her lip, eyes rising to meet his. "Yeah… I think I felt that too."

He stared at her, gazes locked, and before she could even guess what he was doing, his hand was cupping her cheek, thumb stroking tenderly. "I know this is weird and I understand if you don't wanna hang around and figure it out, but… In my experience, things like this don't happen without a pretty screwed up reason."

She swallowed, found herself leaning into the coarse comfort of his palm. "Yeah…"

He grinned, lopsidedly, and it was utterly charming. "Yeah?"

She shouldn't. She should kick them out and forget it ever happened. But damn, every overwhelming emotion and feeling was making her skin tingle. She had to figure this out because she got the distinct impression that walking away from him and never seeing him again would physically _hurt_.

"Let's get digging. I've got six weeks of vacation and I'd rather not spend it kissing complete strangers."

He laughed. "Maybe just me then."

She smirked. "All things go well, you won't be a total stranger by the time we're done."

"Fingers crossed."

Sam cleared his throat. "Can we focus, please? Voyeurism isn't a pastime of mine."

Chloe chuckled, leaning out of Dean's touch and tucked her hair behind her ears. Feeling the damp cooling water, she suddenly paused. Looking down at herself, she reddened. "Wow… I just realized I am so not dressed for company."

"I'm not complaining," Dean replied, grinning.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I bet not."

Odd, but she felt like she knew him so much better than she did.

"It's late," Sam piped up. "Why don't we all meet for breakfast and figure this out?"

Chloe nodded, but Dean looked reluctant.

"Yeah," he said, tone subdued. He started following Sam to the door and glanced back at her. "Tomorrow."

Nodding, she smiled at him.

He lingered, staring at her and she felt the urge to invite him to stay but gathered up her willpower not to. Whatever it was that was pulling them together, she wanted to know the ins and outs before she gave in. And give in she knew she would. However long it took, she'd put this puzzle together. Much as she wanted to deny it, there was definitely something between them and she wasn't the only one who wanted to explore it in-depth.

With a nod, he finally walked out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

Sighing to herself, she fanned her face and found a giddy grin quirking her lips.

For a moment, she felt like a teenager. Counting the hours before she and her Prince Charming would see each other again. Rolling her eyes at herself, she walked to her bed and sat down. Hopefully, this wasn't one of those good stories gone bad and she ended up kicking the bucket over a vacation gone horribly wrong. Sighing, she fell back on her bed and both cursed and thanked her bad luck. Tomorrow would no doubt be a day to remember.


	4. Chapter Three

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**III**.

Dean was pacing like crazy; he was jumpy and impatient and he couldn't even sleep because every time he laid down he thought of her. And that only led to a very hard, very noticeable problem below his waist. He'd always had a healthy appetite for women; given his job, it was one of few things that helped him through the stress. But Chloe was different; she was lingering in his brain, and not only the downstairs one. He kept thinking about her smile and the glitter of her green eyes and how soft her skin was beneath his hands. On top of that was just the _pull_ between them; like a physical string that roped them together and kept tugging, trying to force them closer. And he didn't want to fight it which only served to piss him off.

"I don't like it," Sam said from his lumpy bed.

"You don't even know what it is," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes.

"And that's _why_ I don't like it. We don't know her but all of a sudden she's where we are and you two are making out like hormonal teenagers in love."

Dean cringed. _Love_. Yeah, that's about the last thing he needed right now.

"Look, we'll see her in the morning and get it figured out. So just put that giant brain of yours to sleep."

Sam scoffed. "I'm not the one pacing a hole in the carpet."

His jaw clenched. "Shuddup."

He sighed, but listened.

And Dean spent the next few hours walking back and forth, trying to get his overactive mind to shut off already.

_Chloe._

_Chloe._

_Chloe._

It's all he could focus on. Her smell, her touch, her laughter. Whoever the hell fucked with his senses and got him wrapped up in this was gonna pay. He didn't have the time or inclination to go chasing after some random woman.

So why did he want so badly to go back to that hotel room and just hold her? Just bury his fingers in her hair and breathe her in; those soft curves pressed against his body. He was desperate for it and the sensation was clawing at his stomach. Curling his hands into fists, he threw himself down on the lumpy bed. Just a few more hours and he'd see her. _Just a few more hours_. It was his mantra until sleep finally took him and by morning, he just about _ran_ for the Impala.

…

Chloe was anxious. Her sleep had been elusive and when she'd finally fell victim, it was only to dreams of _him_. Of laughing and warm hazel eyes, of tanned skin and large hands, of him touching her and holding her and kissing her. It was ridiculous and she wanted to fight them off with logic, but it didn't help. When morning came, she showered and dressed and waited impatiently for the knock at her door or a call from downstairs, anything to let her know they were there. She'd changed her outfit twice, checked her make-up a few hundred times and was now wondering if she was _too_ dolled up for breakfast. Scrubbing her face of make-up, she then threw on a pair of comfy and worn-in jeans and an old Zeppelin shirt she'd snagged from Lois years ago.

Finally, the knock at the door; with it came a sense of complete content. It eased her mind, just the knowledge that behind that door was _him_.

Crossing the floor, she opened the door to see Dean grinning back at her. Suddenly, completely in tune, their shoulders seemed to slump as if a weight had been taken from them.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice low and gravely.

She bit her lip to keep from shivering with pleasure. "Hey."

A pause; nothing said, no movement, just a whole lot of staring.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Breakfast, Lovebirds. Let's go."

Flushing, she stepped out and closed the door behind her. "Any good places around here?" she wondered, walking in sync with Dean at her side.

"We just arrived last night, but we saw a couple joints on the ride over," Dean replied.

Climbing on the elevator, they listened silently to the cheesy music on the way to the main floor. It should've been awkward; she didn't _know_ these people. There should have been that moment where the silence felt like it was choking, overwhelmed with a lack of communication. But oddly enough, she felt none of that.

As they stepped out, she felt Dean's hand cover the small of her back and immediately leaned into it, inexplicably comforted by his presence. She could feel the warmth of his palm, the heat of his body just a few inches from her. There was an urge to lean over and inhale, to absorb his scent and relax into it. Refusing to let basic instinct take over, she kept her feet moving and her eyes forward. The last thing she wanted to be was the weird girl who sniffed the hot guy.

They took the Impala over to a small diner that boasted the best pancakes in town; Dean looked ready to put that to the test as he licked his lips and rubbed his hands together. A small bell rang as they stepped inside and the waitress merely motioned for them to take a seat wherever they like. With the guys on one side of the table and her on the other they ordered coffee and the blueberry pancake special.

"So how do we figure this out?" she asked them, lifting a brow as she watched Sam pour copious amounts of sugar into his mug.

The two brothers exchanged looks.

"How open-minded are you?" Sam asked, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table.

She glanced between them and their curious faces. "I feel like this is the beginning of a raunchy porno, but I'll bite. I'm surprisingly open-minded when it comes to the weird or unexplained." She smirked. "Threesomes aren't really my style though."

Sam choked on his coffee while Dean only grinned. "That's too bad. I know a girl who'd love you."

Chloe shook her head. "I'm not surprised. But I'm a one-guy kinda woman."

He nodded, staring at her thoughtfully.

For a fraction of a moment, she was certain that woman he thought of with her had disappeared and he'd replaced her. Just him and her and a bed made for action; she had to shake her head before her thoughts ran out of control.

"Right, anyway," Sam sputtered, cleaning up the coffee that splattered his chin. Clearing his throat, he said, "We don't think this is exactly… normal. The way you got here or how you and Dean met or, well, any of it."

She narrowed her eyes. "Okay…" She couldn't and wouldn't argue, but already her high alert was up; when things went bad and were connected to her it was usually League or Luthor business, so she didn't quite figure out how these two fit into the mix.

Sam looked uncomfortable as he tried to explain, "We kind of think that, maybe, it was a, uh, set up…"

She blinked. "For what?" She grinned wryly. "Is sleeping with Dean really so hard that somebody had to concoct a way to get me, somebody he's never known or met, to travel the country in search of him?"

He frowned. "Well, no…"

"Or do you think I'm involved somehow?" she asked, lips pursing.

Oddly enough, she wasn't really offended. This kind of thing happened a lot, at least to her. Usually she had a team of heroes at her back to say she was the least likely culprit. This time she was on her own, however, against a couple of brothers who obviously had trust issues. _Hip, hip, hooray_ , she thought darkly.

"Yeah, he does; I don't," Dean piped in, shrugging.

"That's because your judgment is clouded," Sam argued.

" _My_ judgment is clouded?" he snorted.

Glaring, Sam rolled his eyes. "We can either talk about it or not, but you can't keep throwing it in my face, all right?"

Dean occupied his mouth with coffee.

"Did I just walk into a family squabble?" Chloe wondered, brows furrowed.

"No," Dean muttered, while simultaneously Sam exclaimed, "Yes!"

"Uh… huh…" With a sigh, she shrugged; it wasn't her business and while she might've dug something up on them under different circumstances, now wasn't the time. "Look, I don't know who you guys are or why somebody would think it was important that Dean and I meet or, well… anything, really. So I have no idea what master plan somebody might have for this."

"It was a job," a new voice interrupted.

Turning to the side quickly, Chloe found a tall, handsome man staring at her with a blank expression. With a tan trench coat overlapping a business suit, he didn't exactly look like the type Dean or Sam would hang around with. "And you _are_ …?"

"Castiel," he replied. "I'm an Angel of the Lord."

She blinked slowly and then looked at Dean and Sam. "What?"

Things just kept getting weirder and _weirder_.

Dean half-smiled. "Yeah, sorry… He's not totally earth-trained yet. He really hasn't learned to stop saying that to people…" Turning toward the so-called Angel, he said, "Cas, dude… How many times do I hafta tell you to stop scaring the locals?"

Castiel frowned. "She's not a regular local. She's aware of the unusual happeningsaround the world. She has a specific place in the plan."

"The plan?" Chloe drawled questioningly.

Her hand slid to her cell phone; suddenly, it seemed like a good idea to be ready to call in reinforcements. With a three digit code, she could have the League boys on their way and activating her locator chip in seconds.

Returning his gaze to her, Castiel cocked his head to one side. "When Dean asked for help, he received it. It was time that you two meet and accomplish the destiny put forth."

"I've got three specials," the waitress interrupted, appearing next to Castiel to cheerfully hand out the food. "Well hey, sugar, can I get you anything?" she asked Castiel.

He glanced at Dean.

"No, thanks. He's good." Dean motioned for Castiel to sit down and then looked around uncomfortably at the rest of the restaurant. "What'd I tell you about blending in?"

Castiel frowned. "That I'm not very good at it."

His eyes widened for emphasis. "Right, so maybe you should work on it, huh?"

Chloe snorted. "I'm sorry, can we get back to the main plot here? Did you say Dean and I were _destined_ to meet because he asked for _help?_ "

"Only when one asks for help can he truly receive it. When Dean called out to the heavens for intervention, they sent forth the person that would help him in his journey."

She shook her head. "Me?" Unconvinced, she frowned. "But we don't even _know_ each other."

"But you will." Castiel looked between them. "Don't you feel it?"

Chloe looked at Dean and while she was loathe to admit it she hadn't been able to even pull her feet back as the very tips of her shoes were touching his. It calmed her; made the raging desire inside her ebb some. "It's hard to miss," she muttered.

"That's the marking. Soul mates. A cherub was sent to send you on your path, activating the markings on either of your hearts."

Dean glowered darkly. "So it's not _real_ then?"

Brows furrowed, Castiel looked confused. "Of course it is. It was destined that you two be together. Your feelings for each other, both physical and mental, have only been heightened to quicken the process. While attracted to her, you would no doubt force any emotional feelings away, which is why the tie is so strong. You have to let her in and accept your fate."

Chloe sighed. "This is not happening…" Her hands slid away from her cell phone and the call for help and rubbed at her face. "I have a life in Metropolis; a job. Exactly how long do you think this soul mates thing is going to _last?_ "

Castiel turned to her. "Your job involves saving lives and righting wrongs… Wouldn't it be more crucial that you help defeat Lucifer before he can rise up and destroy the world?"

Her eyes widened. _Angel of the Lord said **what**? _ Calling in reinforcements came to mind once more; handling this on her own wasn't exactly protocol.

"Damn it, Cas," Dean growled. "You gotta ease people into that stuff!"

"Did you say _Lucifer_?" she repeated, rather stunned.

"Yes. And with him comes the apocalypse."

"Right." Chloe sat back in her chair and stared down at the whip cream topped pancakes in front of her, appetite lost. "Just my life," she muttered.

Sam wasn't completely convinced. "So this thing between them was ordered from above? How do we know it's right then? Not every angel up there is on our side."

Castiel shook his head. "Pre-destined couples cannot be tampered with. It's why your parents, despite all the trouble they had, were still able to be together and conceive the two of you."

"So there's no changing this?" Dean asked, frowning.

"You can try to ignore it," Castiel admitted. "But it won't go away."

"I only have five more weeks off," Chloe muttered. "Think that's long enough to stop the apocalypse?"

Dean sighed. "Great… She's gonna be hysterical any second now."

She glared at him, temper flaring overtop disbelief. "I don't _do_ hysteria, Big Guy. I've dealt with enough in my life to know freaking out won't solve anything." Sitting forward, she grabbed her purse. "I'm not hungry. So whatever it is he and I have to do to get this thing resolved, we'll do it. But when this apocalypse thing is done and over with, we go our separate ways and whoever's turning the dials on this attraction can wind them down." She held a hand out to Dean. "Deal?"

With a short nod, he took it.

And for a second, the spark of mutual attraction took hold, their palms and fingers buzzing with awareness, before willpower had them parting.

Clearing his throat, Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "So what's the big deal, Cas?" he asked, glancing at his angel friend. "What's she got that's gonna help us?"

Castiel almost smiled. "A heart."


	5. Chapter Four

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**IV**.

"So what's the big deal, Cas?" Dean asked, glancing at his angel friend. "What's she got that's gonna help us?"

Castiel almost smiled. "A heart."

The people around the table blinked in response. Silence resounded; only the din of other café patrons could be heard; the clatter of forks and knives, plates and chatter.

"Vague much?" Chloe finally muttered, shaking her head. "I don't want to get scientific in this religious discussion but doesn't _every_ human have a heart?"

Castiel nodded ever-so-slightly. "Yes. But the heart is sometimes more emotion based than muscle."

Somehow, she had trouble thinking of Castiel as the emotional-type. He sat stiffly to her right, not even his shoulders slouched, his chin high as he looked from person to person. Eyes wide and serious, he didn't seem the least bit accustomed to embarrassment or discomfort.

"And you think that somehow my heart is going to end this apocalypse?" Her brows furrowed. "What does _Dean_ have to do with it?"

As if in answer to her question, the attractive man across from her shifted in his seat, shaking his head. Apparently, he didn't want that answered. She sighed. "Look, I don't want to burst your bubble of secrecy, but for whatever reason I'm somehow part of this now and if you expect me to play ball, I need to know who and what I'm up against."

Sam and Dean seemed to have a silent conversation between them; glaring and frowns commenced for her to try and read from. Turning to Castiel, she looked him up and down. "You look more like an accountant than an angel," she mused.

He looked down at himself. "Dean is always telling me I need to blend in more. So I assume looking more like an accountant is a good thing."

She blinked. "Are there a lot of you guys running around down here?"

He pursed his lips. "More than usual."

"Because of the apocalypse?"

"Yes."

Chewing her lip, she glanced at the brothers. "And not all of them are _good?_ "

"There was been contention between my brothers and sisters… Not everybody believes the path I tread is the right one."

"And your path involves helping Dean?" Knitting her brows, she tipped her head wonderingly. "Befriending a human?"

"Befriending him was not part of my mission… After I relieved him from Hell I—"

"Whoa, hey," Dean interrupted. "Break up the one-on-one here. Telling her everything is gonna send her running for the hills. Maybe we should ease her into it, all right?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "You've got a lot to learn about me, Dean."

He smirked. "Sweetheart, I'll devote a good portion of my time to it. For now, why don't we get this grub to go so we can find a less public place to hash all this out?"

With a wave to waitress to draw her over, they had their food packed up along with a cup of coffee to go for Chloe before they received the bill and walked to the front counter.

It wasn't until she was in the Impala to wherever they thought was safest that it dawned on her just how crazy the situation was. She was destined for a complete stranger, if she took the word of this Angel of the Lord as truth, and now she was on her way to the middle of nowhere, with no allies of her own, to hash out a past that sounded pretty big, only to try and stop an apocalypse that was about to be hoisted on the shoulders of her and some guy she met and kissed in a bar last night at random.

She smiled, if only to stop herself from crying over just how messed up her life really was.

…

Three hours later, she was eyes deep in the history of the Winchesters. From demons to near-death experiences, hunters to those they hunted, she was now versed in all things Dean. He told her of his parents, of how he was raised, of Sam's loss in Jess and the path it brought them to. The death of their father, the crossroads deal he made to save his brother, and then they got into the dark stuff. Demons and hell, angels and destinies, resurrection and a path that would lead to brothers to the ultimate war, of heaven and hell, her world caught in the middle. It was overwhelming, to say the least, and some part of her was wary to believe it.

"Laptop," she said, motioning with her hands.

They thinned their eyes at her, glancing from each other to her, disconcerted. "What?"

She sighed, itching to start already. "I need a laptop."

Uncertain, Sam dug his out and handed it to her.

It took her all of fifteen minutes to confirm bits and pieces of their story. She hacked the FBI database and got past their security to bring up the files marked on Sam, Dean and John Winchester and went through them with a critical eye. Apparently, they were deceased; and really, they had been, they'd only come back. More than that, there was a mile long list of insane things they had done that would appear disturbing to any normal human being. With a frown, she sat back in her chair. So maybe not everything they said was a complete farce and honestly, there was something about their story that she couldn't help but feel was true. It might've been the "heightening" of their feelings for each other, but she trusted Dean implicitly.

"So you're the intended host of Michael, and Sam is meant to be Lucifer's…" She licked her lips. "And I thought _my_ life was messed up."

Dean snorted, but there was no humor. If anything, his face was drawn and dark. There was a pain in her chest, _for_ him. She had to force herself not to go to him, to comfort him. But they hardly knew each other and he wasn't likely to accept her comfort. She might've known his history but that didn't mean she really knew _him_ ; and still, she could see the obvious four foot bubble he kept around himself, never letting anybody in too close. As his story wore on, she felt the shields fall into place; he wasn't accustomed to sharing and he didn't like it much. She could understand that; hers wasn't a life led in complete normalcy.

"Okay," she sighed, rubbing her temples. "So what now? What do I have to do?"

They looked to Castiel for the answer.

"Your path will unfold as it's meant to… Now that she's here, things have been set in motion."

"Fate," Dean scoffed, scowling.

"And you're sure this isn't some kind of deliberate plan?" Sam wondered, half-smiling at her in apology.

"I can read her mind if it's vital." He walked toward her and with wide-eyes, she scrambled.

"Wait a second, Super-Angel." She held her hands up to keep him at bay, ready to fight if she had to. How she was going to take on an angel and two men who took out _monsters_ for a living, she wasn't sure, but she would fight regardless of the odds. "I have other people's lives and secrets in this head and much as I'd like to help you with this whole apocalypse thing, I won't turn my back on their trust."

His brows cinched. "I'll only read your intentions; not your secrets."

She frowned, but paused. "Angel or not, you say more than needed and I've got a band of superheroes who'll tear you to pieces."

He merely blinked before touching his fingers to her forehead and reading her thoughts.

She forced any thoughts of Clark and his heritage, of the guys and their league, as far from her mind as she could or she tried to. She supposed thinking of _not thinking_ of them defeated the purpose.

And finally, Castiel drew back to look at the impatient form of Sam Winchester, who was fidgeting in wait. "She wants only to help. Her feelings for Dean are strong and she doesn't understand them, but she's willing to try as long as it helps."

Chloe felt a flush fill her cheeks, feeling like a teenager whose crush was just announced to the class.

Sam nodded, but still looked suspicious of hers; much as it irritated her, however, she couldn't really blame his resistance.

Standing up, Chloe tucked her hands in her pockets; she had a million and three things on her mind and no idea how to sort through it all. "Not that I'm trying to draw this painfully uncomfortable situation out any longer that we have to, but would you guys mind if I headed back to my suite? I have a lot to think over and while I believe you guys, it's a little hard to take it all in at once."

Dean nodded, running a hand across his mouth and whiskered job as he stood up, sighing. "Yeah… I'll drive you in."

He didn't wait as Sam argued that he didn't think it was a good idea for them to be alone. Instead, he grabbed his worn leather jacket and tugged it on, pulled out his keys and closed the motel door behind them with a bang. His hand found her back as they walked and while she liked it, she couldn't help thinking that he wasn't really the kind of guy who went for even the smallest of gestures like that. But the pull between them was strong and for some reason even the lightest of touches was calming.

They drove in silence, nothing but the road and sparse traffic to fill the quiet car. She watched him out of the corner of her eye; the way he sat, legs braced apart and shoulders tensed, ready for anything. His expression was brooding, far away as if deep in thought. Somehow, the rumble of his car fit him perfectly; dark and angry and full of underlying power. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him; to trace the line of his squared jaw and feel the faint shadow of coarse whiskers along his skin. With a shiver, she turned her hand into a fist and forced her gaze away. She'd never felt this attracted to anyone in her life and it was making her feel foolish and exhilarated all at once.

He walked her up to her hotel room without bothering to ask and since she wanted him to, she didn't argue. He leaned back against the elevator wall, hands stuffed in his coat pockets as he watched the numbers crawl higher. There was an impatient anxiety inside her; the kind that made her feel like she was meant to do something but couldn't figure out what it was. Some part of her was exhausted; more mentally than physically. She was standing in an elevator with a guy who tracked and killed monsters for a living. Not even really a _living_ since he made no money out of it; more of a duty than anything. Another hero, she thought wryly, her lips quirking with a subdued smile.

When they stopped in front of her room, she slid her keycard through the slot and suddenly her anxiety turned to panic. He would leave and she'd be there, alone, thinking about him until she ached with it.

With the door open and her standing at the jamb, she stared at him. Without thinking, she reached forward to smooth the furrow of his brows. "You're angry."

He frowned, lifted a shoulder in reply.

Chloe sighed. Oh how she loved the strong silent types; insert eye-rolling here! "We're in this together, Dean. So if it's really bothering you, you've gotta tell me." Lifting a brow, she chewed her lip. "While I've been filled in, I don't know this world like you do. All I know is that for some reason, you and I are linked and if we don't do what has to be done, this world is over… I've got friends and family out there that I'm not willing to lose. Not if I have the chance to change it."

He stared at her, his mouth a hard line of determination. "And if we met before any of this bullshit came along?" he asked, cocking a brow. "If you knew my story but didn't have any obligation to me or the world?"

He looked so sad, dejected, and she hated that she played any part in it. "I deal with heroes daily… With scuffed egos and the ups and downs of living a normal life and juggling duty… I threw myself so far into the job I couldn't find my way out. My friends had to physically _drag_ me out of the hole I dug and force me into this vacation." She waited until he was staring at her, his dark eyes burning into hers. "So if you think it's your past that would've had me walking away, you'd be wrong." She shrugged. "Do I wish this was a different situation? Yes. But we can't change it. We can't change whatever we are to each other or what we're _meant_ to be to each other. And I know that you hate that. I don't even really know you, but I know that." She grinned gently, staring searchingly into warm hazel eyes. "I don't want to be another obstacle you face and I'll do my best not to be. But I'm not going anywhere…" Half-smiling, she tipped her head, looking up at him warmly. "We're in this together. Eventually, I hope you'll see that."

His jaw ticked and his eyes turned away.

A lot had been said and no doubt he had some thinking to do of his own. She expected him to turn his back and walk away; leave her there as his long stride put space between them. Instead, he reached out, burying a hand behind her neck and in her hair, curling his fingers tight. "I won't be some meat-suit for some arrogant angel. If I have to kill Lucifer myself, I will…," he growled thickly. "You better be ready to face that."

Licking her dry lips, she nodded. "I can't say I'll take it in stride, but I never walk away from a challenge."

Some of the overwhelming tension in him drained and before she could be glad for it his mouth was on hers, claiming her lips with the kind of heady passion she'd only ever read about. How a man who hardly knew her could evoke such desire, she didn't know. And for the moment, she couldn't care. Her hands framed his face, the coarse whiskers of his unshaved cheeks tickling her palms. She slid them down his neck, curling her fingers tightly in the collar of his jacket; the cracked brown leather was oddly nice. He nipped her lower lip lightly and her mouth parted on a gasp, doing exactly what he'd wanted as his tongue swept in at that exact moment.

She felt dizzy; the taste of him, hot and powerful and overwhelming her tastebuds and senses. Her knees shook, the rest of her leaning into him for balance and security. His arm wrapped around her waist; tight, strong, a rough hand sliding coarsely up her back, fingers spread along her skin. A shiver slid down her spine, fanned across her skin and made her hips rock tight against him. He was hard already, pressing intensely against her stomach and already she could feel a surge of wet heat between her thighs. Too fast, too much; she knew that but she couldn't stop it.

He tugged on her hair, yanked her head back from his and forced his lips from hers. Their panting breaths mingled between them intimately while he stared down at her with dark eyes. She could feel her raging heartbeat pumping against her swollen lips and licked them to taste what was left of his kiss still lingering. His eyes fell, took in the swipe of her pink tongue and a shadow of desire darkened his face. She nearly whimpered. He swallowed tightly, taking a step back. His fingers fled her hair slowly, stroking her neck in what she was sure was an absently affectionate way, while his other hand slid from beneath her shirt, squeezed her hip and then fell to his sides.

"We'll talk later," he said, his voice hoarse and low.

She could only nod.

And then he was walking away, heavy boots along freshly vacuumed carpet and looking so out of place against the pale pink walls and flowery paintings. When he looked back at her over his shoulder, she knew the next five weeks were going to be the most intense and welcomed of her entire life. And she wasn't going to protest one second of it.


	6. Chapter Five

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))  
 

**V**.

Chloe might've rethought her lack of protest when she found herself on the road with them. Since they had no written plan to follow, the Winchester brothers were hell bent on continuing in their usual way of things. Saving people, hunting things; the family business. And Chloe Sullivan was along for the ride. Since bringing her car along only meant more gas and entirely too much space between her and Dean, she'd had a service come and pick it up, all thanks to Oliver's shiny Visa card that got her anything she wanted. When he called her cell asking why she didn't need her car, she explained that she'd simply found another form of transport and for him not to worry.

"Unlikely, Sidekick," he'd replied wryly and she took it in stride. They both knew, as well as anybody who knew even a portion of her life, that she had a tendency to get into trouble, no matter what the situation was. But she didn't let him in on her latest foray in the unusual, if only because he'd no doubt lecture her that it didn't sound anything akin to the rest they'd sent her off for. She would beg to differ; most of her time was spent in the backseat of the Impala, listening to mullet rock and catching up on the happenings, past and present, involving the Winchester boys.

They were a regular goldmine online.

"Hey, did you guys know there's a bunch of books out there about you…? Some guy named Chuck Shurley writes about all this crazy stuff in a series called Supernatural."

Dean grimaced. "Yeah… He's a prophet…" With a sigh, he muttered, "Wonder if he saw this one coming…"

"Well," she replied, wryly, "According to spoilers, the next book involves Dean Winchester meeting his match and falling head over steel-toe boots for a snarky blonde called Chloe Sullivan. So… yeah, I'd have to say he did."

He stifled a curse, rolling his eyes. "Dude coulda called and warned me."

She laughed. "Good to see I'm rubbing off on you."

He sent her a look through the rear-view mirror that said he wanted to do a lot more than just _rub_ againsther and she stifled a shiver of pleasure, forcing her eyes down to her laptop once more.

It'd been three days since they spilled the long and twisted story of their lives and Dean had kissed her into a desperate frenzy at her hotel door. They'd kept things at arms-length since. Sam found a job for them to head after and she'd gone along, laptop in toe, and wondered if their _path_ as Castiel had called it would become clear soon. Since he wasn't around for her to interrogate, she had to stick to her own instincts.

When Sam fell asleep a few hours later, his head pressed against the cold glass of the window, she shrugged her hoodie off and slid it carefully beneath his head.

He jerked, glancing at her in sleepy awareness.

"I come in peace," she murmured.

He simply looked down at the shirt and then half-smiled in confused gratitude.

It wasn't much, but she figured she might've made a little progress in breaking the shell that was the younger brother.

When he slid back off to la-la-land, she turned so she could spread her legs out along the black leather seat.

"How much longer 'til we're in town?" she wondered, looking up from her screen to Dean at the driver's wheel.

"An hour, maybe less," he replied.

She nodded. "Will Castiel be there?" she wondered. She had a few questions for the Angel and while Dean disapproved how open he could be, it suited her needs just fine. He would be honest when she talked to him and she needed that. Dean was being careful and Sam suspicious; much as they accepted her into their car and whatever crazy plan was ahead of them, they weren't exactly opening their arms and calling her family. She didn't expect them to. Her team back home would be just as careful and she'd praise them for it; not everybody could be trusted.

He frowned. "Cas comes and goes when he wants. If he's got something to tell us or we need help, he shows up." He glanced at her, grunting, "Why?"

If she didn't know better, she'd say he looked almost jealous. "Girl can't ask after a miraculous angel every once in awhile?" she teased, smiling.

He muttered under his breath, something she couldn't make out and instead shook her head.

Shifting in his seat, he cleared his throat. "So what is it you _do_ anyway?" he grunted, cocking a brow at her.

Smiling, she closed her laptop. "I wondered when you'd get around to asking me that."

He pursed his lips, waiting for her to explain.

"I guess, since you spilled your guts, I can let you in on some of my very confusing past…" With a sigh, she began with Smallville. "It was the type of sleepy town that you'd expect the biggest gathering to involve a hay-toss or barn dance…" She smiled to herself, remembering the town she'd had her first love of the weird. "But things on the outside weren't as simple as they seemed." From meteor freaks to near-death experiences, she filled him in on her high school adventures. With a long inhale, she started in on college, and how it seemed that no matter where she was, the unusual followed. As she was closing in on her current life, she started to notice that her stories were less funny and more seriously deranged. There were no anecdotes interspersed between, involving her and Clark or her and Lois, out for some fun after a massacre of murder and mayhem. Now it was all business-Chloe that popped up and took hold; the woman who held together a band of secret superheroes that saved the world from more _human_ monsters than those Dean and his brother fended away from society.

He whistled lowly, shaking his head. "Minus the sawed off, your boogeyman's a lot like mine…"

She laughed. "Mine probably has less hair… And I'll have you know I'm not a bad shot with a .45."

He snorted, shaking his head and looking arrogantly attractive. "Sweetheart, 'not bad" will get you killed in my line of business."

Grinning, she lifted a shoulder. "And that would be why I'm behind the computer, equipped with an alarm and a tazer for protection."

"What's the alarm gonna do when your hero friends are in another country?"

"At least one of them has super-hearing and two have super-speed." She smiled. "I'm relatively safe."

He grunted, but it was obvious he disagreed.

With a lifted brow, she leaned forward, resting her chin on the seat back between them. "You think you could do better?"

"Keeping you safe?" he asked, looking down at her. "Given my record, probably not," he admitted with a sour note that spoke of past misery.

But there was something in his eyes, something in the way she felt when she was near him, that told her he would do absolutely everything in his power to keep her safe and unhurt. And that was enough for her.

…

When they reached the dusty town called Friendly, she wondered if every place started to look the same in their line of business. They didn't seem to notice or care though, pulling up to a motel that had seen better days. Or so she hoped. Otherwise, she felt bad for the owners. With peeling and faded yellow paint on the exterior and near to half the security lights long burned out, it wasn't well taken care of and wasn't likely to be treated to any TLC in the near future. Compared to the Hotel she'd set up in, this was more Rat than Ritz. But she expected they were used to it and while she wanted to whip out the Visa and get them five-star digs, pride was something she knew well and wasn't willing to ding in either Winchester boy.

Dean hauled his and her bags from the trunk and over his shoulders, kicking the door wider as he followed Sam inside. When she spotted only two beds, her eyes slid toward Dean. As if he knew what she was thinking, he gave her a half-smirk. "We can get a second room but it'd be safer if you were in here with us." With a sigh, he tossed their bags on the bed together. "We'll probably be sleeping in different shifts anyway."

She nodded, chewing her lip in contemplation. There was a thrill inside of her that she couldn't quite quash, wanting to share the bed _with_ him.

While Sam went to catch a shower and clean up, Dean wiggled the keys in her direction. "You hungry?"

She was going to decline but then her stomach growled and she shrugged, giving in. It had only been stale cheezies and flat pop for the last couple hours and it seemed her stomach hungered for more.

Climbing off the bed, she followed him out to the car. "Shouldn't we let Sam know?" she wondered, glancing back at the beat-up hotel room door.

"He'll figure it out," he replied, climbing back into the car.

She slid into the passenger seat feeling like she was taking Sam's position. "Kinda weird not being in the back," she admitted, buckling in.

"I'd tell you to call shottie but Sam's legs are longer and he'd only beat you to the front," he replied, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

She laughed, shaking her head. "So where are we headed? Diner or take-out?"

He shrugged, pulling out of the parking lot and driving past every local dive she saw. When he pulled in front of a _real_ restaurant, one that didn't have greasy specials and where the waitress was dressed all in black with a spotless white apron, she was rather surprised. After parking in the lot, he climbed out and locked up. He didn't bother explaining as they walked toward the bright and booming restaurant; instead his hand fell to the small of her back and directed her through the swinging glass doors. The aroma of Italian food invaded her senses and her shoulders drooped in reply; she missed real food. She could honestly say burgers and fries were something she'd happily remove from her menu entirely.

They were seated at a small table next to the window; giving them a view of the townsfolk walking by. Friendly was a small town, but its patrons were bustling to and fro; with kids and friends, chatting amiably over this or that. She imagined it was a little like Smallville; more community than city-life, with a few well-known restaurants and hang-outs.

Tucking her foot behind her ankle, she smiled to herself, feeling relaxed and almost at-home.

Dean shrugged off his leather jacket, not the least bit uncomfortable or interested in the rest of the world.

They perused the menus in silence and when the waitress stopped by with a polite smile and a lingering look at Dean, Chloe was amused. He ordered the steak and she got pasta; she wanted anything as far from fast food as she could get and local diners weren't known for their tortellini.

Shrugging her coat off, she wrapped it behind her seat and then placed her elbows on the table before resting her chin in her open palms. She watched him, wondering if he was hiding any discomfort. He didn't look it, but she knew he wasn't used to this kind of place. Sam and Dean were the kind of guys who got their food on the run and didn't have a half hour to wait for proper preparation. It was oddly sweet of him that he'd gone out of the way to bring her elsewhere. A swell of kindness in her chest warmed her over his thoughtfulness.

"You think Sam's gonna be upset he missed out on four-star dining?" she wondered.

He half-smiled, lifting a brow. "I'll bring him back a doggy bag so he won't pout much."

She chuckled. "For all your arguing, you guys are really close…"

He cleared his throat, eyes falling away. "Depends on the day, I guess." He rubbed his jaw uncomfortably and while she knew he didn't want to talk about it, she pursued the subject anyway.

"What was it like? Growing up together?" she asked.

He frowned, sighed, but after a minute he replied, "Both lonely and crowded." With a sad smile, he shook his head. "Sometimes it was like I was the dad, other days it was like he was older than me, keepin' me sane."

She tipped her head, patiently waiting for him to expand.

"Our dad was always out on another hunt… It was just me, Sammy and a small motel room that wasn't fit for kids our age…" He stared down into his coffee, his brows furrowed in a brooding manner. "I used to wish it was all a dream…" He licked his lip, forced a smile over his frown. "That my mom would show up one day and bring us home, tell us it was all a bad nightmare." He shook his head. "But we kept growing up, motel to motel, and the only good times were when he came back." He shrugged. "Then it was shooting practice and listening to music in the Impala, driving to the next town."

She stared at him, sorrowfully. "How long were his jobs?"

He pursed his lips, lifted a careless shoulder. "Days, sometimes weeks."

"And you were left to take care of Sam?" She sighed, trying to imagine what that might've been like. "You're only a few years older than him."

He ran a tired hand over his face. "Yeah… Seems like decades some days though."

She reached out, covered his hand with hers. He stared at it a moment and she wondered if he'd pull away, but then he was turning her hand over and tracing her palm with his thumb. Where her hands were soft, feminine, his were calloused and large, swamping hers. Her fingertips were cold while his were hot, warming her skin as he explored absently. His nails were short, blunt, his fingers long and his skin tanned. Her mind whirled automatically with images of his hands on her pale skin; of his fingers lingering on her body, of his palms spanning her waist. She chewed her lip, felt the connection stiffen between them, tighten and pull on them. Her eyes lifted, caught his, and the intensity nearly scorched her.

"Not sure I like this fate stuff," he admitted, staring at her.

"Because you don't trust it… or me?" she wondered, hating that her voice was a breathy whisper.

His jaw tightened, ticked.

But before he could answer, the waitress was back, asking if everything was okay and smiling in Dean's direction.

The moment was lost and she tugged her hand free, wanting to return to the companionable silence rather than get close to a man who didn't want to. But he caught her fingertip and drew her hand back as the waitress moved to leave them in peace.

"Dad was a hardass," he told her, frowning. "He was suspicious of everything and he was usually right. I grew up on that and I won't apologize for it." It was as close as she would probably get to him admitting he might be wrong about her and she knew it.

"My dad was absent," she replied, half-smiling. "He worked a lot and so I grew up on my own."

"Your mom?" he asked.

"She was… She left, to keep me safe, when I was just a little girl." She fiddled with the cloth napkin on the table. "For a long time, I just thought she abandoned me."

He nodded. "And now?"

Her lips thinned. "Now she's catatonic… with very little hope that she'll ever wake up."

He squeezed her hand, reassuring, comforting, and she felt a well of warmth around her as if he'd physically hugged her.

She smiled. "This is depressing… I'd suggest we share good stories but I'm not sure I want to hear yours…"

Smirking, Dean shrugged. "Most of my good times involved nameless women, a couple bottles of whisky and a hunt needing celebrating."

Chewing her lip, she nodded. "Exactly what I thought."

"And yours?"

Sighing, she wrinkled her nose. "I honestly can't remember the last time I really had fun."

Lifting his coffee, he clinked it against her own. "We've got that in common."

A bitter half-smile twisted her mouth. "I used to be fun… And not in the alcohol and nameless women way."

He grinned and she knew there was a flash of her and a woman twined in his head.

With a roll of her eyes, she snorted. "You're lucky we're destined for each other, Winchester, or I might be offended."

He smirked outrageously. "Makes you feel better, you were definitely the better of the three."

"Three," she laughed, her eyes wide.

He shrugged, chuckling warmly under his breath.

There were laugh lines at the corner of his eyes, she noticed. And something shifted in her, something that wanted him to laugh more, to relax and let go of some of those inner-demons that haunted him. She determined to make what time they had together less about the bad stuff and more about the good; she was rusty in the area, but she thought they might just be able to help each other out.

He didn't let go of her hand until their lunch came and by then she felt a loss when the warmth of his embrace was gone. Their food was delicious, mouth-watering, and she moaned in approval as the pasta seemed to melt in her mouth. He stared up at her, a chunk of steak half-way to his mouth, a film of dark desire in his eyes as he drank in her inspired moan. She licked her lips of sauce and stared at him, feeling that sting of attraction between them. There were better things she could be doing with his mouth than making it laugh, but she wanted his happiness before her physical satisfaction. It was that thought that helped her get through the meal without jumping him then and there and having her way with him on the nice restaurant floor.

If the curve of his lips was anything to go by, he wouldn't have minded their foray in public sex in the least. In fact, he'd probably relish in every second of it.

It would have to wait though; she had a man to heal and a heart to open.  



	7. Chapter Six

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com)) 

**VI**.

Their job was quick and dirty and only took two days while she sat bored in the motel room. They were adamant she not come along and so she entertained herself with her laptop, exchanging emails with Lois and Clark and even the League boys who wondered if she was getting any sun or relaxation. While there was little sun for her to enjoy, she admitted she was getting more laid back by the minute. It seemed her frenzied nerves were calming as she spent hours just lying around napping on occasion. As long as she knew Dean was out there and coming back the need to be around him was expelled some; she didn't feel the nagging that she had before, making her drive for hours on end just to be where he was.

Their sleeping schedule was weird; when she was awake, they were sleeping and when she was sleeping, they were hunting. As the third night rolled around, she yawned, wondering where they'd be heading next and when. Castiel had yet to return and she was wondering why. This fate thing was confusing to her and she didn't know if she was doing the right thing by waiting around for the boys to get back.

It was near eleven when they came back, dirty and exhausted. Sam took off for the shower without so much as a wave, but Dean collapsed into a chair and looked over at her. "You're up."

She closed the book she'd picked up at a nearby store, something that didn't take much thinking but passed the time all the same. "It would appear so," she replied, tipping her head. "You get it?"

He smiled tiredly. "Yeah… Finished him off easy enough."

With a snort, she shook her head. "By the look and smell of you, I'll have to disagree."

He laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. "The woods aren't made of roses and potpourri, Sweetheart."

"Yeah," she said, pinching her nose closed, "I can smell that."

Chuckling, he stood up, dragging his shirt off and kicking his shoes away.

"You're not leaving that in here to fester, are you?" she asked, glaring at his dirty t-shirt.

He rolled his eyes. "You got a better idea?"

"Gas and fire?" she replied hopefully.

He frowned. "This is a _good_ shirt."

"Correction. It _was_ a good shirt. Now it's just a bunch of cloth that no detergent will ever remove the smell from."

With a roll of his eyes he walked to the window, opened it, and threw his shirt out. "There. Happy?"

She grinned. "Jeans too."

He cocked a brow. "Now you're just trying to get me naked."

Settling down against the pillows, she crossed her arms behind her head. "And you're arguing?"

With a laugh, he unbuttoned his jeans. "No." Jeans and socks expelled out the window, his hands fell to his hips. "Anything else?" he asked.

She licked her dry lips, a surge of indecent thoughts warming her skin. But before she could reply, the door swung open and a dripping wet Sam was standing in a t-shirt and pajama pants. Her desire fizzled as she realized how uncomfortable it would be to go any further with Dean while his brother was just a few feet away. While she and Sam hadn't gotten off on the best foot, she didn't want to make this situation any worse for him.

With a sigh, Dean seemed to realize what she was silently saying and as he walked toward the shower he shoved his brother.

"Hey," Sam muttered, confused. "What was that for?"

Dean glared at him, closing the door behind him before turning on the water.

Sliding down into the bed, she glanced at Sam rather sheepishly. "So… Hunt's over… What's next?"

Running a hand through his wet hair, he sat down at the end of the bed. "I've been looking through the obits and I think there's a place we might check out a few towns over… It's just a hunch though; not a lot to go on."

Chloe nodded. "You wanna tell me about it?"

He seemed reluctant but then he grabbed his laptop and the next ten minutes were spent with him explaining the ins and outs and why he felt this one might be one of their jobs.

"Hmm," she said, nodding. "Well, I think you've got a solid lead."

Sam smiled, seeming rather proud. "Good… Now I just have to convince him."

As he pointed at the bathroom door, her eyes followed over. The water was off and he would be out any second. It dawned on her suddenly that this was the night they'd be _sharing_ the bed. After all the teasing and stripping and the long looks, she'd finally have him right there, within inches of her. A flash of heat sizzled along her skin but she squelched it. This so wasn't the place for to be doing _that_. Just ten minutes ago she'd been thinking about how uncomfortable it would be for everyone, especially Sam.

"I'm sure he'll see your point," she murmured, focusing back on the brother in front of her.

He shrugged, nodding. Taking his place on his bed across from her, he powered down his laptop and with a yawn, stretched his arms out. Sliding beneath his ugly flower-patterned blanket, he spread out across the bed on his stomach and within five minutes, he was snoring lightly. Chloe smiled. She didn't imagine a lot of people ever got close enough to see the Winchesters in such a vulnerable state and she hoped this meant Sam was beginning to trust her some. She wouldn't hold her breath yet; it wasn't as if she'd proven her loyalty by just sticking around and they were the type of people that needed proof before they handed over any kind of trust.

The door opened, snapping her out of her thoughts, and her eyes slid over to the damp half-naked body that left the bathroom. Dean had a towel in one hand, using it to clean one of his ears as he scrunched an eye up and ran a hand through his short, wet hair. Her throat went dry as she watched a few dribbles of cooling water make their way down his defined torso. Her tongue begged to reach out and follow; to dip into the contours of muscle and slide along the hard flat plains of his chest.

Flicking the bathroom light off, he walked toward the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung pajama pants that had her eyes sliding to his hipbones and licking her lips. Huh. Without his shirt on, the desire she felt flamed double. There was a tattoo above one of his pectorals, it looked almost tribal. He tossed his towel to the floor carelessly and then climbed into bed next to her, dragging the same ugly flower-patterned blanket up under his armpits.

Much as she wanted to explore that very attractive body, she could see the exhaustion in his face and eyes and so she rolled onto her side, nuzzling her head into the pillow. She'd let him be; he had a few days worth of little sleep to make up for. Just as she was getting comfortable with the extra heat of his body a few inches away, his hand crawled across her waist. With a quick yank, he'd pulled her back until his chest was pressed tight to her and his arm had swallowed her up. Head tucked beneath his chin and his leg sliding between hers, he wasn't the least bit shy as he held her close.

There was a fraction of a second when she second-guessed the sleeping arrangements and then she felt his breathing; his chest against her back and his breath in her hair and suddenly she was more content than she'd ever been before. His thumb stroked back and forth absently, rubbing against the skin of her exposed midriff tenderly. She fell asleep inhaling the clean, warm scent of him, feeling safer and more at home than she had in years.

…

They were on the road and on the way to the next job the following morning. She woke up in the brace of his arms, still heavy around her and keeping her in their drowsy heat that dragged her from wakefulness and left her nestled in a half-sleep. She'd rolled over at some point because her nose was buried in his bare chest and her arm looped over his waist, hand dragging against the base of his back. Hips pressed together and his leg tight between her thighs, it was hard to ignore the morning greeting he was giving her as it poked her stomach stubbornly. She smiled, both amused and already feeling a stirring in her that said she wanted to help him with it. When her eyes opened it was to see he was following suit, his face scrunched up in distaste at the knowledge that morning had come.

She smiled, chuckling under her breath and he seemed to wake up completely then. Brows high on his forehead, he looked down at her as she stared up at him. With a sleepy half-smile, he ran a hand over her mussed hair. "Morning," he grunted.

Licking her dry lips, she sighed, "Morning."

"If you guys are done cuddling, could we get going?" Sam asked, alerting them to his presence.

While she flushed in embarrassment, Dean offered a crude hand expression to his little brother. And then he was extracting his leg from between hers and rolling over. As he stretched his arms above his head, she watched the magnificent movement of muscles beneath his hard, tan skin. She wanted to reach out and touch them but refused her hands the chance and instead sat up, running her fingers through her tangled blonde hair and hoping she looked half-way decent. They didn't seem to mind as Sam was ready and sipping a store-bought cup of coffee as he packed away his and Dean's things.

"'m takin' a shower," Dean grumbled, walking toward the bathroom. With a sudden grin, he looked back at her. "You wanna join me?"

She did, but she rolled her eyes. She knew what it would lead to and she had to figure this soul mate stuff out before she went and got entangled with him too much. Already, she felt over her head and she didn't like that one bit. So while Dean shrugged it off, she started putting her things away in her luggage and watched Sam out of the corner of her eyes.

"So… How much is all of this bothering you?" she wondered.

He frowned. "It's not you, Chloe… It's just the situation."

She nodded. "I know… But I _am_ part of the situation…" Chewing her lip, she moved to sit on the side of the bed nearest him. "I don't want to be any more hassle than I have to be. I know this isn't what either of you wanted or expected and I'm not trying to interfere." With an uncomfortable smile, she offered, "As soon as this is all over, and the Four Horsemen are back in their pens… I'll be gone and it'll be back to things as usual."

He stared at her, his lips turning down in a frown. "I think that's actually what worries me."

Her brow furrowed. "I thought that's what you _wanted_. Just you and Dean again, back to things before the hunting became a lot more than what it was…"

"Sure, that'd be nice, but it'd never going to be like that again…" With a sigh, he shook his head. "We're different people and nobody can bounce back from this and expect it'll go back to what it was…" Staring at her, he frowned. "I don't know if I trust this thing you two have; fate hasn't exactly been good to us. But… I see the way you are with him, the way he is with you… And maybe it has a lot to do with this connection you two have, whatever it is that's drawing you to each other. All I know for sure is that when you're there he talks and he relaxes and he stops acting like the tough 'sonuvabitch' he thinks we expect him to be." He rolled his eyes with a bitter smile. "And I think that if you leave in the end he'll go right back to that guy… When he deserves a lot more."

Chloe stared at him, stunned. All this time Sam had been quiet, reserved with her, even uncomfortable with her very presence, and now here he was telling her that he wasn't sure if he wanted her to _ever_ leave, so long as it meant his brother would be the better for it.

"Sam…" What was she supposed to say or do? Empty promises would get them nowhere. She cared about Dean, about _both_ of them, but she had a life, a _team_ waiting for her. Turning her back wasn't an option… was it?

He half-smiled. "Look, Chloe, I know you've got a life and I know that the main reason you've stuck around is because you'll do whatever you can to help us stop the apocalypse… But I also see how you look at him and I might not know you well, but I think he's not the only one getting affected by all this." He paused, brows furrowed, and she thought she might've seen a nicer, gentler Sam that had once been and was now shadowed by their lifestyle. "I just don't want you to make up your mind about something only to realize it's not going to help you _or_ him." With that, he rose, and got back to packing his things away.

Chloe chewed her lip.

Well… Her morning just got a lot more complicated.

When Dean came out of the shower, she didn't even have the enjoyment of watching his dripping wet body get toweled down. She was dwelling on Sam's words, wondering if maybe he was right. In the short time they'd spent together, maybe Dean was affecting her more than she thought. Looking over at him, she took in his lazy half-smile as he dragged on a shirt and hid his magnificent body from her sight. He winked knowingly at her and she rolled her eyes, completely at ease with his overt personality.

She had just under five weeks to hopefully end the apocalypse and help him out in any way possible. And if Sam was right, there was a good chance she was going to get a lot deeper than she ever expected. The worst part was that she couldn't force herself to worry much; she trusted Dean, whether it was a side effect of their connection or not. She trusted him with her beat-up heart and she would just have to take whatever was dished out.  



	8. Chapter Seven

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**VII**.

Dean was losing his mind. And it was all over the feisty blonde sprawled on the backseat of his Impala. If his raging need for her didn't simmer down soon, he was going to have a permanent case of blue balls that could very well ruin the last good part of life he had left. One week and he was feeling like he'd been run over and left on the side of the road for the buzzards to come and peck at. He was trying to focus, to put his mind on things other than her, but he could only work for so long. By the end of most days he ended up in bed with her, his arms snug around her body, his face buried in her hair. She always smelled the same; coffee and his body soap. There was something disturbingly intimate about a woman smelling like him.

Sam was asleep, his head turned uncomfortably to one side; he'd no doubt wake up achy and cranky. Not all that unusual since his brother seemed to be in a mood most of the time lately. Then again, he couldn't say he hadn't been either. But Dean had good reason; there was too much going on and not enough time to sift through all the bullshit. He had an apocalypse on his hands, an archangel waiting to use him as a meat-suit, a never-ending list of problems and now a woman on top of it.

Soul mates.

Fate.

Fuck, whatever they wanted to call it he wanted to deny it.

He was a firm believer in free-will, no matter how many times Michael or any of the others threw it in his face that it wouldn't have come this far, to this point, if it hadn't already been pre-planned and executed to perfection. He could give a rat's ass about their grand plan; in the end, only two things mattered, that Lucifer bit the big one and Sammy was okay. Despite all the bad mojo between him and his brother, he only wanted what was best for Sam and he'd do whatever it took to make that happen. And now he had somebody else to worry about. Maybe he should've let her run away after the bar scene and never given her a second thought, but a churning in his gut had him chasing after her and even now he couldn't deny that he was attracted to her in a way that set his blood on fire.

He hated that he couldn't control it. Even now, when all she was doing was typing away at her laptop, her brow furrowed and her lower lip trapped in her teeth, he wanted nothing more than to throw her down and spend hours enjoying every damn inch of her. And what was worse, he didn't want to just walk away after. He actually liked the nights spent just holding her; he looked forward to when he could crawl into bed and she'd slide back into his embrace without him having to do or say anything. Like she fit there; like he was meant for holding her. It was a sap idea, but he couldn't get it out of his head.

"Are you going to keep glaring at me or tell me what's up?" she wondered, finally looking up from her computer to pin him with a knowing stare.

He grumbled under his breath.

So maybe he'd spent the better part of the last half hour glaring a hole in her pretty face. He was hoping she hadn't noticed. Something in the back of his mind said the opposite; maybe even part of him was jealous that her focus was on her computer and not him. It was stupid and pathetic but he liked it when she paid attention to him.

With an amused smile, she pushed her laptop to the side and moved to the center, resting her arms on the back of his seat and laying her head on them to look up at him. "How you feeling, Grumpy?"

He cocked a brow. "Like I could go for a hot coffee and a soft bed?"

She grinned. "And where do I fit into this equation?"

He smirked slowly. "Where d'you think?"

Laughing lightly, she shook her head. "That all you think of?"

"Yeah." Occasionally, he thought of what it might be like under other circumstances. Despite how careful he'd always been and how defensive he was by nature, when he fell asleep his dreams went their own course. And if he happened to imagine a life where they were just a regular couple and there were no demons chasing them down or the devil out to fuck up the world, then hell… He deserved a few moments of peace, didn't he?

She always wore a sundress; yellow. Her feet bare and the grass a bright, fresh green. There was a house, white, that sat behind them with a wrap-around porch and a swing and the tell-tale signs of family and roots and _home_. And there were children; laughing, joyful, at her feet, in his arms, crawling all over him. And he was happy, content, in a life he never really expected for himself. But damn it, some part of him wanted it. And he wanted it with _her_.

She reached over, her soft hand stroking the side of his neck, fingers combing through his hair absently. "You wanna talk about it?"

He frowned. "No." _Maybe_.

She waited patiently.

He hated and loved her for that.

"My whole life is on the road…" he admitted, jaw ticking. "What little life I have."

Her fingers traced his ear, gently, tenderly.

A shiver ran its inevitable course down his spine, but he did his best to ignore it. He'd gotten good at that around her.

"So whatever this fate thing is…" He shook his head, clearing his throat as if to get rid of the emotion and honesty of the situation. "It can't last."

Licking her lips, she neither agreed nor disagreed. "Did you want it to?" she finally asked.

He stared at her, eyes dark, commanding, while hers were filled with warmth and curiosity, a tenacious attitude that always left him feeling like he could chase after her for a lifetime and never get tired. He didn't answer, decided he didn't even really know.

She smiled, understandingly, and then leaned across and pressed a short but sweet kiss against his neck. "When you figure that out, you let me know," she murmured, and then she was back at her laptop and he was more confused than ever.

…

He was going to split the zipper on his jeans. He bit his lip, hard, just to keep from moaning when she exited the shower in little more than the smallest towel he'd ever seen in his life. He thought to glare at his brother to keep him from looking only to remember that Sam had gone out for food. Suddenly, with a voracious appetite, he wanted a whole lot more than take out. He wanted _her_ and he wanted her _now_.

Unaware of his thoughts, she stood with the steam of the shower still rolling out behind her. Damp blonde hair hung in tangles at her shoulders while her furrowed brow and quizzical eyes searched the room for her bag and clothes. Any minute now she'd be back to covering that sweet, curvy body of hers and he would have to make a visit to the bathroom to get rid of any evidence he wanted more. Sleeping with her wasn't often far from his mind; it was the inevitabilities of _after_ that made him pause. Other women came and went, literally, and he didn't have to worry about the early-morning awkwardness. But Chloe was there, with them, for however long, and so whatever happened between them couldn't exactly be shuffled under the carpet.

But as much as the consequences hung heavy in the air, he couldn't force his body to care much. She was standing there, so completely oblivious to how he was drinking her in, how he had to physically _force_ himself from dragging her onto the bed so he could rock her world sideways. Her towel slipped, not even an inch, and she caught it within a fraction of a second, but it was the last shred of willpower he had left.

He stood up, his legs buzzing with energy, his hands furled in fists.

She looked up, eyes keen on him, and just as quickly it dawned on her; what she wearing, where she was, who she was with. Her lips parted, a puff of air exiting her. She didn't run, didn't cower, didn't even blink.

He crossed the space between them in three long strides and then his hands were on her hips and he'd dragged her against him with one swift yank. A gasp, a halt of breath, and then her hands were on his shoulders and her dark green eyes were boring into his. A smart man, one with the same reservations as him, might've tossed her away and left; spent his pent up frustration on some lusty nameless woman in a bar, someone he'd never have to remember. But the connection between them sparked and ran taut and turning away was impossible.

Bending lower, he watched as her chin tipped forward, her lips waited, even quivered in anticipation. There was a thumping heartbeat that banged against his chest, a heart that held the same mark as hers, one destined to meet and match her own. _Mine_ , his mind and body claimed, and he couldn't find it in him to deny it. He caught her soft lips with his own, possessive, passionate, pouring every last second of frustration into a kiss. She tasted like his toothpaste; like fresh mint and a hint of heat that was all hers. Her fingers curled tightly against his shoulders, gripping onto him as if she thought she might fall, her knees giving way.

He'd catch her, he thought. Stupidly, arrogantly, but true nonetheless.

He didn't have to.

He had her pinned to the wall, nothing but a cotton towel between him and her naked skin. He could feel her curves fitting easily against him, her hips inviting his into their embrace.

Dean Winchester loved women; all women. He loved their taste and scent and their soft skin; he loved the way they laughed and how their bodies could incite emotions and reactions out of him without pause. And he'd had his fair sure of beautiful, sensual, passionate women; women who would do anything he wanted, only along for the ride and the thrill and the end that would leave them shaky and spent and euphoric. He expected it just as much as them. But as he stood, the weight of his body pressed against this small, sweet, snarky woman, he forgot about the ache below his waist and wanted only to see her passion and her ecstasy and her cry of absolute pleasure.

His rough hands ran over her shoulders, fingers splaying across her upper chest that heaved with each hitch of her breath. Her skin was down soft, pale and spattered with beauty marks here or there. Kissing down her cheek, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and suckled her skin, nibbling the span of her shoulder while she let her head fall back and bit her lip to keep from crying out too loudly. He wanted her to let it out; he wanted to hear her whimper and cry and _scream_.

Fingers loosening her towel, he pushed it down until it fell trapped between the press of their hips tight together. Her breasts were an even handful each, a cream white with dusky nipples that tightened in the cool air and beneath his hard stare. As he kissed along her collar bone and down her chest, her hands rose from his shoulders and buried in his hair, tightening around dark chestnut strands and tugging as his breath skittered across her tempting and taunting chest. Gooseflesh fanned along her skin and his hands reached to force it away, to warm her flesh. He massaged one breast while his lips smoothed across the other, nuzzling the underside with his nose and ignoring the tight pink nipple that made his mouth water.

She whimpered now, didn't bother hiding it as he squeezed her breast in his palm, the rough skin rubbing her nipple just right.

He watched her through dark, fascinated eyes; the way her brow rose and her green eyes fell darker, how her lips bloomed red each time she bit them. Gaze set on her, he dragged his tongue flat against her nipple, flicking it with the very tip. She jolted, a gasp tightening her throat before it pressed through her lips to his ears. He spent a few minutes making her do it again and again; watching as her cheeks enflamed and her body strained against his tongue; how her shoulders fell back and her breasts jutted out, wanting more.

All soft skin and underlying sensuality, she rocked her hips in tandem with his suckling mouth and kneading hands. The film of water from her shower was gone, now replaced with the sheen of sweat that he tasted each time he licked her swollen and needy breast. One of his hands fell to her thigh, rubbing and rising high along her hip, beneath the cover of her towel. He could feel the heat of her already, could almost taste her.

Conversations about this or that, family and friends, fled him; now it was just them and their desire. He didn't care to think about the consequences or all the time he spent talking himself out of any connection to her. He couldn't give two-shits about fate or destiny or any of it. All he knew was that he had Chloe Sullivan in his arms, wet and wanting him. And he planned to give her the best time of her life.

His hand forced the towel out of the way, revealing the last of her nudity. Tidy blonde curls nestled between shaking thighs was all he saw as he kissed down her clenching stomach. His hands slid down her back, cupping the curve of her bottom and drawing her toward him. He inhaled deeply; the heady sense of sex and woman and unquestionable desire. Sliding his knuckles down her thigh slowly, he lifted her knee and hooked it over his shoulder.

Staring down at him, she cupped his face, thumbs tracing the hard lines of his cheeks before her palms slid up, along his ears, and buried in his hair once more. He leaned forward, watched her, and then he kissed her sweet folds as intimately as he would her lips. His tongue reaching out as if might for her own, only to stroke the hard clit that encompassed her femininity. She bucked against him, let out a cry of pleasure and squeezed his hair tight in her fingers. He watched every emotion and expression that filled her face as he suckled and stroked and nibbled his way along her slit. He buried his mouth so deep against her it was all he could smell and taste; tangy, rich, sweet and full of endless passion. She came hard against his probing tongue and he didn't stop; instead he worked harder. He slid his flattened tongue inside her, dragging his teeth along her sensitive flesh and watched as she came again. Almost painfully, she shook against him, gasping for air and shaking her head back and forth as if she couldn't take any more. And so he slid two fingers inside her, pumping hard as he licked and nibbled her clit in tandem. A third, a fourth climax, and she was beginning to droop, to lose any power of her limbs or body.

"Dean," she choked, stroking his neck as if pleading with him.

With one last lick of her, he rose up her body, kissing her stomach and nipping each of her breasts before he hauled her up into his arms and kissed her hard on her mouth. She opened her panting lips and wrapped her arms around his neck, her quaking thighs loose at his waist.

He stumbled back, hit the bed and held her tight. She tugged at his shirt savagely, wanting it off and away. He reached back, yanked it free and tossed it to the floor. There was a moment where his eyes near rolled back into his head as her soft breasts met his chest, as her naked body was pressed tight to him. His hands pressed into her shoulder blades, holding her steady, searching for his own strength.

She grinned down at him, her eyes hazy and glittering with temptation.

Hands on either side of his face, she bent low and kissed him; slow and lingering, her teeth tugging at his lower lip playfully. God, how he wanted her. All of her. Now, yesterday, tomorrow. Something burned his throat; emotion, tenderness, he didn't know. And then she was rocking her hips against him, her naked heat rubbing along the jean-clad erection that burned for her. He shook his head, wanted to stop her; he needed to be inside her and if she kept that up it'd be over long before then. But she kept moving and his hands only gripped her harder.

Her hands slid down to his waist, nails dragging across his abdomen in some primal possessive way that made his stomach jump and his cock harden further. _Fuck_. He felt like he could burst through the denim and ram inside her with the force of a Mac truck. His thighs tightened and jumped, his knees shook, and his toes curled into the carpet beneath his feet. And she pressed against him, her soft naked body tight against him while her hands worked their way up his back, nails scoring as she pressed harder, thighs flexing and spreading.

He thrust up against her, his hips pressing hard and rubbing against the wet heat he could almost feel straight through his jeans. A hand on her shoulder, he tugged her back and buried his face against her breast, suckling and teasing her pale pink nipple with fervor. And she whimpered his name, sighed it like he was all there was, the only word in the whole Goddamn English language, and fuck his only answer was, "Chloe!" on a shout so guttural he felt it in his chest, in his cock as it tightened, flames of ecstasy rippling along his shaft and he came hard inside his jeans, tucked away from the tight confines of her wet heat. It should've been less than phenomenal; it should've been missing something. But he could honestly say it was one of the most intimate moments of his entire life.

He was panting against her chest, his sweat-dampened forehead stuck to her skin.

She sighed, curled her fingers in his hair and kissed the top of his head. "Wow," she murmured.

He gave a throaty laugh and fell back on the bed, dragging her with him.

She lay sprawled across him, gloriously naked and without a moment spent in discomfort.

"If you're that good still wearing pants I'm not sure I can take you in all your glory," she murmured, kissing his chest sloppily with a pleasured grin.

He grunted, still riding the high.

He hadn't felt this good in… _years_.

Opening his eyes halfway, he stared at her. Watched as she lay her cheek against his shoulder and simply held him, arm around his waist while the other curled around his shoulder, fingers lazily stroking his neck. She was beautiful; her damp blonde hair stuck to her and a flush to her pale skin that made her glow. Her lower lip was chewed up and red and without thinking, he cupped her cheek and bent low to kiss her, his tongue reaching to soothe it. His fingers tightened in the hair at the base of her neck, held on like he thought she might up and disappear on him at any second.

He rolled her over until she was flat on her back and staring up at him with those green eyes of hers that changed shade with her moods. He could have her again, right then; lose the jeans and fuck her real slow. But then she yawned, her jaw following loose and her hot breath meeting his mouth. With an embarrassed smile, she wrinkled her nose. "Sorry."

He laughed unexpectedly and shook his head. She was exhausted; after the marathon he'd just done to her, it was expected. And Sam would be back any minute. So he rolled off her and laid on his side.

She turned with him. "I may look tired, but that's really only a defense mechanism against more than five orgasms… I can't be sure, because I've never had so many in so little time, but I have a pretty good source that says so." She rolled her eyes. "So ignore the brakes a minute and continue on," she ordered, tapping her lips as if she expected another kiss.

He chuckled, leaned over and kissed her deeply, watching with arrogant satisfaction as her entire body seemed to relax into him. And slowly, he drew back, tucking her hair behind her ear in a gesture he wasn't used to. He stroked her hair and along her temple, traced her cheekbone with his thumb and followed the length of her neck while she kept forcing her eyes open, trying her best to stay awake. And finally, he tugged her over and hugged her into his body, dragging the blanket up and over them. She was asleep within seconds, sighing and burrowing against his chest.

Complications. Consequences. _Hell_.

He couldn't care. He would, later, but for now… He just wanted to hold her.


	9. Chapter Eight

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**VIII**.

Sam wasn't a fan of Chinese food; it could be all the grease or maybe the smell, but as hungry as he was, he just couldn't be happy about holding the two giant bags of food in his arms as he walked toward the motel room he, Dean, and Chloe were sharing. A frown curled his lips. Sometimes, it just struck him odd that there was this woman who was now on the road with them, sharing his brother's bed on a regular basis and _not_ waking Sam up with loud, boisterous sex. The situation was weird, to say the least, and he wouldn't say he accepted it or wanted it. If anything, it added more complications. So some part of him agreed with Dean having Chloe, while another part felt like it was a trap. _Naturally_. What in their lives didn't _eventually_ blow up in their faces?

It wasn't that he didn't like Chloe. In fact, he did. She was smart, not just book wise but to the weirder side of things, too. And she wasn't afraid to take either of them on in a battle of wills, despite looking like she was a pixie surrounded by giants. Gumption, he supposed. She had a lot of it. But it didn't take away from the distraction side of things. What could she provide that would be equal to how much she could get in the way?

Her heart. Cas had said her _heart_ would be the deciding factor in the war, the part to change it all in their favor. He sincerely hoped the often cryptic angel didn't mean literally, because he could already tell _that_ was a no go. Much as Dean tried to pretend he was indifferent to their new partner, it was more than obvious that wasn't the case. Just the way he _looked_ at her, with an intensity he gave to nothing else. And if that didn't say enough, the fact that each and every morning he was wrapped around her like some kind of protective cocoon, ready to do battle in her honor, did. Sam might've laughed, even found it funny that his brother had met his match, if this were under any other circumstances. But with Lucifer and Archangel Michael wanting to use them as their personal chess pieces, he wasn't taking much humor out of another player in the already crowded game. Even if that player might just be the one person alive to heal his brother.

Heal. As in, hopefully put back together the guy who'd been to hell and back, battled all kinds of personal and real demons, and was now expected to become some willing meatsuit to an arrogant angel out to save the world, whatever it took. Sam was skeptical but there was still a shred of hope inside him that when it all ended, _if_ it ended good instead of bloody, like Dean and Bobby expected, that maybe Chloe and Dean could recover from it. That they might last longer than the apocalypse somehow. Happily ever after wasn't often in the Winchester vocabulary, but he supposed he still believed in it, somehow, somewhere really deep, locked away from the threat of morose doom.

With a sigh, he dragged his room key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, using his foot to angle it open so he could get inside and close it without having to leave it open while setting the food down. Careful. What they always had to be, since they were kids, with more expectation and knowing hefted on their shoulders than there should have been.

He didn't notice them until he'd dropped the brown, grease stained bags on the table and was shrugging his jacket off. He nearly tripped over the shirt tossed on the floor, his boots tangling in it. But he righted himself easily enough, turned to yell at Dean for being a slob only to find him half-asleep, wrapped around a dozing Chloe, who appeared to be naked save for the sheet she was wrapped in. Staring at her with furrowed brows of confusion and deep-thinking, Dean stroked his forefinger up and down her bare arm.

Sam felt like he'd walked in on an intimate moment and even considered backing out of the room slowly, pointlessly hoping his brother hadn't noticed him. He got one step before Dean spoke and it wasn't the careless, shrug-off Sam expected.

"What the hell am I doing?" he grumbled.

Sam almost smiled, but held back to save his brother's pride. He ducked his head to direct his amusement at the floor and when he was sure it wasn't showing, looked back to the baffled Dean. "Hoping," Sam offered in answer.

Dean snorted. "Yeah. And for what?"

Sitting down at the table, Sam sighed. "Something better."

He refused to look at him, but cocked a brow in reply.

"Look, Dean… I know this wasn't what you wanted… I'm not even sure I'm rooting for this yet. But… Is it really so bad? I mean…" He looked over at the sleeping blonde beauty. "You could do a lot worse."

Turning a glare in his direction full of irritation and frustration, Dean's jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. "We've got an apocalypse on our hands, Sammy, try not to play matchmaker."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm well aware of what's going on…" he replied in a clipped tone. "But you're not exactly _suffering_ right now."

Dean's lips pursed stiffly. "Yeah, _you_ try being forcefully attracted to a woman 24/7, stuck with nowhere to go and knowing that it ain't going anywhere!"

"Forcefully?" he repeated, unconvinced. "I heard what Cas said, Dean. Everything you feel is exactly what you would anyway, just heightened."

"Bull," he muttered, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Should we be having this conversation _here_?" Sam wondered, looking pointedly at Chloe.

"Please." He snorted, smirking arrogantly. "She'll be out for a few hours."

Sam curled his lip to tell his brother that was _too much information_ , only to get an eye roll in response.

"I'm still wearing clothes, geek."

True. Although, that only highlighted what was probably done while he was gone and now he couldn't help _knowing._

"So what is it then? You like her? You don't like her? You wish this wasn't happening? What?"

Shoulders slumped, Dean shook his head. "All of the above?"

"Not an answer."

"Thanks, Dr. Phil. I'll try to be more clear next time," he snapped back sarcastically.

Sam frowned. "Clearly, you wanna talk about it."

" _Clearly_ , I don't know _what_ the hell I want…" Standing up, Dean ran a hand through his cropped hair and then stomped toward the bathroom, although he didn't slam the door Sam was fpretty sure that was more for Chloe's benefit than his.

Conversation over, Sam was left irritated. Shaking his head, he shoved the bags of food out of his immediate vicinity and brooded. He really wished this mess would get itself cleaned up. And quick.

…

Chloe woke feeling rejuvenated. Stretching her arms high above her head and curling her toes into the sheet beneath her, she gave a long sigh of comfort. And then realized she was very, _very_ naked. For a second, confusion reigned. And then, with a faint flush, her memory came rushing back. Of her and Dean, against the wall, on top of the bed. How passionate, how _tender,_ he'd been with her. How many and how incredible the orgasms he'd given her were. Lips stretching in a grin of satisfaction, she sat up in bed holding the sheet to her chest, and realized that the guys were packing their things and talking over coffee that even _smelled_ stale.

"Dude was _dead_? Like they had the funeral, embalmed him and stuffed him in a wood box six feet under?" Dean asked, brow cocked as he stuffed clothes in his ratty duffel bag.

"Yeah," Sam said, nodding. "I checked and _re_ checked. Clay Thompson has been dead _five years_ but somebody apparently _saw_ him break into another guy's trailer and kill him."

Dean blinked, frowning. "And this was in Sioux Falls?"

"Yeah. I already called Bobby, but he hasn't isn't answering."

"Huh."

Chloe rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tucked fussy hair behind her ears. "You have a zombie job in Sioux Falls?" she asked, drawing their attention.

Eyes immediately turned toward her, each of them looking surprised to both find her awake and aware of the job, Dean's gaze soon fell below her chin to where she held the sheet close while Sam rolled his eyes.

"Something like that… We've gotta talk to the locals before we can be sure."

Nodding, she sighed. "This means another road trip, right?"

"Yes… And there should still be hot water left. So you should jump in now. Dean can get the rest of your things. We've gotta head out soon."

With a nod and a yawn, she stood from the bed, wrapping the sheet around her as she went. Pausing as she neared Dean, she caught his eyes and half-smiled. "Morning."

Nodding, he cleared his throat. "Yeah, uh, morning." He was trying to look at her and away from her at the same time and for some reason she couldn't help but find that endearing. Deciding to give him a reprieve from any teasing, she continued to the bathroom, trying and failing to hide her grin.

…

A few hours later, Chloe found herself sitting inside a café while the two brothers played big, all-knowing _FBI_ guys as they met up with the person who'd seen a dead man kill his neighbor.

"Remind me again why I can't stay in the car with my trusty laptop?" she'd asked when Dean had decided she'd have to sit inside, near but not _with_ them.

"For one, having you in our car would look suspicious and for another…" He shrugged, frowning stubbornly. "I dunno if I can see you from the diner. So you'll be close enough where we can keep an eye on you and you can't get in trouble."

He said that like she'd often caused him grief, which wasn't true. If she were being honest, trouble _did_ have a habit of following her pretty much everywhere, but since _he_ was currently the trouble in her life, she hadn't had much time for anything else. But, with a sigh, she'd complied, setting up her lap top at the counter bar and asking the waitress for a cup of her finest.

She was sure to walk in a few minutes before the guys so not to arouse suspicion and not to look at them when they stepped inside to look around. A bell rang above the door as Dean yanked it open and Chloe kept her eyes on her laptop screen, where she could vaguely see the shape of the two brothers who paused just in front of the doorway.

"So what do we do?" Sam wondered.

Chloe wanted to roll her eyes. After all these years, shouldn't they have _perfected_ this by now?

Dean simply nodded at the man sitting in the back corner booth. "Well…" He shrugged. "Guess we just do it ourselves."

As they sat down with their source, she contemplated the circumstances. Not for the first time, Chloe wondered who _Bobby_ was. Apparently, he was meant to help them out with this, or at least provide a little insight. They'd been calling him all morning and getting nothing though. This wasn't the first time his name had been tossed around; since finding herself stuck with the Winchester boys, she'd heard them often exchanging calls with him or tossing ideas back and forth and wondering aloud what Bobby would think of it all or what he'd suggest they do. She had yet to meet him and the way they talked about him she assumed he was rather like a father figure, making her even less interested in a face-to-face. She had about enough of the all-male, serious testosterone overload just the two hunters she was tagging along with had and so she wasn't excited to add another to the bunch. But she had no say in what they did or where they went, which was why she was now sitting on an uncomfortable plastic stool, sipping bad coffee and writing an email to her cousin to keep Lois from tracking her down for girl talk over Mahi-Mahi's.

So maybe telling her cousin she was relaxing on some beach had backfired… a _little_. But she'd hold true to her 'vacation' story as long as she had to. She may not _like_ what was happening, although some parts of it had its upsides, but she _knew_ she had to be here. There was a reason, a purpose, that she was here, with them, and she would just have to see it through to the bitter, or hopefully _happy_ , end.

When the local sheriff arrived, Chloe tensed. Things were either about to get a little easier or a lot harder. Watching from the corner of her eyes, she witnessed the exchange of control and then a phone number. Brows furrowed, she waited to see how it would all play out.

"Bobby?" the Sherriff asked into the phone. The confused look on her face said she'd been expected someone else. Like maybe a supervisor of the FBI.

 _Crap_.

With a long sigh, Chloe realized this was about to blow up in their faces.

Looking between Dean and Sam, the Sheriff appeared _pissed_. "FBI, huh?"

Immediately looking caught, Sam tried to play innocent. "So, uh… So you know Bobby Singer?"

Chloe covered a snort. Yeah, great recover.

"That is… That is a _fun coincidence_ ," Dean offered up, chuckling awkwardly.

Oh God, Chloe inwardly moaned.

"Here's what I know _about_ Bobby Singer…" She pinned them with a dark stare. "He's a menace around here. Ass full of drunken disorderlies and _mail fraud_ , ya understandin' me?"

"I think we all could agree that you made yourself perfectly clear, yes," Dean said, looking between them.

"So whatever the three of you are _planning_ , it ends _here_. Now." She stabbed a finger at the table. "Ten-four on that, _Agents?_ "

"Yeah," Dean replied, eyes wrinkled at the corners with feigned sincerity while Sam grinned awkwardly.

After the Sheriff left, Chloe closed her laptop, tucked it away in its bag and then spun in her seat, smirking at the boys.

"Not a word," Dean ordered, motioning for her to follow as he and Sam left the diner to grumpily climb in the car.

With a chuckle, Chloe sat down in the backseat. "Now, see… If I'd stayed in the car I wouldn't have witnessed that _crushing_ defeat against your acting skills." Sighing with faux-sadness, she shook her head. "Put in your place by a small town Sheriff… That has _got_ to bruise the ego."

Jaw clenched, Dean turned in his seat, arm anchored over the back. "You done?"

She winked at him and felt a little spark of triumph when his irritation began to fade. Rolling his eyes, he turned back around. "Whadda we do now?"

"Bobby's?" Sam suggested, frowning.

Exhaling heavily, Dean turned the key in the ignition. "Hell."

…

The drive to Bobby's felt long and filled with dread. After her humor over the events in the diner had dimmed, Chloe was left with the obvious and soon-coming meeting between her and Bobby Singer. As Singer Salvage came closer and closer, she stared at the two storey house that had no doubt seen better days. Weathered and battered by nature and little see-to, while it was likely quite nice to look at back when it'd been in its prime, it was rather sad and defeated now. The yard surrounding was filled with the shells of cars, metal bodies and parts strewn in tall piles all over. The dirt road that led inside was bumpy and jarred her in her seat.

She couldn't help the anxiety that crept into her chest. Would he like her? Hate her? Try to exorcise the demon he must _assume_ inhabited her, the only logical reason she was forced into their inner-sanctum. Sam was busy on his laptop, rechecking his research on both the town and the recent occurrence of walking-dead, and Dean was brooding as he drove too-fast toward their long-time friend's home.

Catching her expression in the mirror, he slowed the Impala. "What?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"What?" she replied, chewing her lip.

"You're nervous," he said simply.

She scoffed. "I'm _not_."

He cocked a brow, slowed the car until it was idling half-way down the drive. "You gonna spill or are we just gonna sit here and wait for the _zombies_ to come knocking?"

Glaring at him, she glanced out the window at the house and then back at him. "Would you say Bobby was a _nice_ guy? Maybe even _understanding_?'

He snorted, glanced at Sam who looked just as amused, and then turned back to her. "Seriously?"

"What?" Annoyed with his instant reaction to her question, she crossed her arms over her chest. "It's not every day I meet some seasoned hunter who makes a couple guys like _you_ act like scolded children…"

"Scolded ch—" Dean growled, cut himself off and then shook his head. "Look, Bobby's a good guy. Maybe a little gruff or, I dunno, _impatient_ , but he's not gonna attack you or anything."

So, maybe that wasn't what she was actually worried about. Maybe it was more of whether he would _like_ her. As in, she wanted him to. Wanted his approval for some reason. It wasn't every day she met the father figure in her so-called _soul mate's_ life. So was it so crazy that she kind of wanted him to think she was _good enough_ for Dean? Oh god, she thought, rolling her eyes, It _was_ crazy! What the hell was she thinking? Soul mates. Destiny. The whole point of this incredibly weird adventure was that she was part of some bigger game and she was meant to help the likes of Dean in whatever the hell he was supposed to do. Save the world, end the apocalypse, have sex with a sinfully good looking demon-hunter. Or, wait, maybe that last one wasn't really a prerequisite. _Whatever_.

"I'm fine. Can we go now?" she muttered, turning irritated eyes away from Dean.

He sighed, his jaw ticking like he wanted to say more, but had no words. And finally, he started driving again, only stopping when the Impala reached the front of the house. Up close, she could see the blue paint was peeling and the wear-and-tear wasn't pretty. But it was sturdy-looking, if nothing else. Following them out of the car and up the steps, she stuck behind their tall and wide-shouldered frames as they knocked once and then let themselves inside. She didn't even get a chance to try and make a good impression before the boys were talking shop.

Following Bobby, who was apparently in a wheel-chair from what she could now see of the older man taking the forefront after meeting them in the front hall, the boys entered a library-looking living room. "Do you know how many times we tried calling you?" Dean asked, and though his question was abrupt his tone was almost worried. "Where've you been?"

"Playing Murderball," Bobby snapped back, turning around to face them as they paused in the middle of the room.

"What is that _smell?_ " Dean asked.

Chloe sniffed the air but couldn't find anything distinctly _wrong_ or out of place. If anything, Bobby's place smelled cleaner than most of the dumps they'd been staying in lately.

With furrowed brows, Dean asked, "Is that _soap_?"

She sighed. It'd take a _guy_ to make it sound like that smell was _bad_.

"Did you _clean?_ "

Offended, Bobby cocked his head slightly. "What are you, my _mother_? Bite me!"

Oookay, Chloe thought, Now she knew where these boys got their attitudes.

"Bobby, _seriously_ ," Sam intervened.

"I've been working, you know, tryin' to find a way to stop the _devil_." He glanced past them to stare at Chloe. "Something other than what the _angels_ are giving us anyway."

She felt as though she should flinch at that but didn't. "Yeah, hi, thanks for the vote of confidence," she piped up.

Slightly amused, Bobby cocked a brow. "So you're our Godsend, huh?"

She quirked a smile. "He said his name was Castiel… You know something I don't?"

"She's smart." His eyes narrowed. "We'll see if that's a good thing or not." Turning back to Sam and Dean, he waited for them to continue their mini-interrogation.

"So? You got anything?" Dean asked.

Bobby scoffed. "What d'you think?"

"Bobby, it's just… There's a case…" Sam sat down on a nearby table, "Less than five miles from your _house_."

Stepping to the side, Dean glanced back at her and motioned with his head for her to come out from hiding in the shadows.

Rolling her eyes, she joined him the few inches closer.

"What the… The Benny Sutton thing?" Bobby looked confused, even irritated. "That's what this is about?"

Dean glanced at Sam and then back at Bobby. "You knew about that?"

"Hell yes, I checked into it already. There's nothing here."

Eyes wide, Sam argued, "Except a witness who saw a dead guy commit _murder!_ "

Chloe watched them exchange words, arguing back and forth, volleying facts about supernatural omens and countering with the truth of South Dakota weather and drunken witnesses.

"Guys, I thought it was something, too," Bobby assured. "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

"So, who killed the guy?"

Bobby shrugged it off. "Take your pick. That Benny Sutton guy was a grade A son-of-a-bitch." He glanced at her, offering, "'Scuse my language." And then returned his eyes to between Sam and Dean, "There's a list of the _living_ a year long who wouldn't mind puttin' a cap in his ass."

The Winchester brothers nodded.

"So you're tellin' us…" Dean shook his head. "Nothing."

Lifting his hands in defeat, Bobby sighed. "Sorry. Think you wasted a tank of gas on this one."

Chloe didn't know Bobby, couldn't say she knew his gestures or his way of talking or what his tells were for lying or truth-telling, but she got the distinct feeling that he wasn't being honest with them right then. And it didn't sit right with her at all. But then, she couldn't exactly start pointing fingers at someone they'd known all their lives and expect them to believe her. And for all she knew, they had the same feeling.

"Great," Dean muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

With little conversation left to exchange, it wasn't long before they were on their way out.

"Hey," Bobby called, nodding toward Chloe.

Pausing, she looked back at him and then at the guys who were well on their way down the porch and toward the car. Meeting Bobby at the doorway, she half-smiled.

Narrowing his eyes at her, he leaned forward in his chair, arms resting stiffly at his sides. "Let's get somethin' real straight, Blondie. I don't know you, I don't _trust_ you, and if you do anything to hurt those boys, I will _kill_ you." He lifted his brows. "Got me?"

Frowning, Chloe nodded. "Loud and clear." Just as he was about to wheel away though, she leaned down and places her hands on either side of him, wrapping her fingers around his wrists and gaining his attention. "And just so _you're_ clear… I'm here because as screwed up as this all is, I was told I could do something to save the world. Maybe I'm not sure _what_ that is yet, but I _will_ do it. And another thing…" She leaned down a little closer. "I don't know you either, but after that little exchange in there, I do know you're lying. So if you think I trust _you_ , you'd be dead wrong." Standing back up, she took a step away from him and tucked her hands in her pockets. "And if _you_ hurt either of those boys with whatever _you're_ doing, then believe me… Retribution is a _bitch!_ "

"Chloe, let's go," Dean called out to her.

"I'm coming," she replied, before staring Bobby down a moment longer.

"Be seein' you," he said in farewell.

"A lot, I'm sure," Chloe returned before walking down the stairs and hopping in the backseat on the Impala, her brows furrowed in concentration.

"What was that?" Dean asked her, staring at her from his seat up front and expecting an honest answer.

"Just getting to know each other," she murmured before turning her face from him and staring at the foreboding Singer house once more.

She didn't like what she knew so far.

…

When night fell, Chloe found herself still musing over Bobby as Dean slowed just as they passed the sign reading _St. Anthony's Cemetery_. Not exactly the kind of place she frequented, but she assumed all would be explained soon enough.

Apparently, Sam was just as out of the loop, because when they came to a stop on the side of the road, he looked around questioningly and asked, "What's up?"

Sliding to the center of the backseat, Chloe leaned forward and perched her chin on her arm, eyes moving in between the two guys.

"In't that the graveyard back there?" Dean replied.

Sam looked back to be sure and then said, "Yeah, so what? Bobby already checked it out."

" _And?_ What? Bobby's never wrong?"

Bobbing his head to and fro, Sam didn't exactly reply.

"Come on, we'll take a peek and then we'll hit the road."

Chloe wondered if it was completely bizarre that she'd rather check out the cemetery and their job then just leave it like it was. Granted, she wasn't sure she thought Bobby was right about this _non_ -job, but she also wasn't equipped for this kind of job in the first place. So maybe staying out of it was the best idea. Though it wasn't one of her strong suits. Thankfully, she didn't have to make the decision. They came to their own conclusion and soon enough the three of them were walking through the spooky cemetery with flashlights in hand.

Not that she was exactly arguing, but… "Why am I here with you two? The car _does_ lock doesn't it?"

Dean glanced back at her, brows slightly raised above his eyes. "Didn't we already have this conversation earlier? I can't keep an eye on you when you're in the car."

"Because I'm prone to do _what_ , exactly?" she sighed, hugging her arms around her waist. "If I wanted to ditch you two, I would have already."

"It's not _you_ I think will 'cause trouble," he muttered under his breath.

Rubbing her arms to keep the chill off, Chloe rolled her eyes. "Can I at least get a heads-up the next time you two plan on doing a little cemetery visiting? I didn't really dress for this."

He snorted but a second later he had her hauled up at his side, an arm looped over her shoulder and the flashlight in his fingers. With a grin, her turned it back and shined it in her eyes.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, shoving her elbow into his side.

"Quiet… You don't wanna wake the dead."

Snickering, she stared up at him drolly. "Ha, ha."

"Guys," Sam sighed.

Dean rolled his eyes but shut up.

Standing this close to him, Chloe couldn't say her memory didn't get the better of her. For a moment, she remembered just how very nicely built he was under his t-shirt and jacket. The heat that radiated off him and soaked into her sent a shiver down her spine that she hardly managed to quash. Apparently assuming she was shivering from the cold, Dean tossed the flashlight to the other hand and then rubbed his free palm up and down her arm, thumbs stroking her skin. Except that only served to remind her of how he'd run those same fingers all over her naked body, making her shudder and whimper and clench all around him.

"You okay?"

"Hm," she replied in a bit of a daze.

Before Dean could repeat himself, their attention was drawn elsewhere.

"Hey…" Sam turned his flashlight toward a grave all of a sudden. _Clay James Thompson_ read the headstone before the beam of light was lowered to the ground.

"That look fresh to you?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, actually…"

And then the shovels appeared to begin digging.

Given that she wasn't much of a _grave digger_ , Chloe stepped aside to let the boys have at it. Sitting atop a headstone, her feet kicking to and fro, she held the light while the two of them put their backs into it. Wearing Dean's jacket to keep the cold off, she cocked her head and watched as the casket was slowly revealed. For a moment, she felt a thrill of anticipation when Dean jumped out of the hole and Sam reached down to yank the door, that had a pretty beat-up looking top with broken wood shards all over, open. Her breath caught in her throat as she leaned forward to see what would be there. A dead and very rotted corpse or—

The door opened with a creak and a snap.

An empty satin bed where Clay Thompson _should_ be resting.

With a labored inhale, Sam stared down with furrowed brows before wondering, "What is going on here?"

Pursing his lips, Dean shook his head. "I dunno, but something stinks."

"I'd like to make a decomposing body joke," Chloe muttered, "But this just doesn't feel like a good time." Standing, she crossed the short space between them to kneel next to Dean. "So, what now?"

"Now… We go check out the dead dude's family home…"

Chloe frowned. "Why…?"

"'Cause…" Standing up, Dean dusted his knees off. "Just like Dorothy, when we're lost, we all wanna get back to the one place we were safe and taken care of."

Realizing, Chloe nodded. "Well, come on, Tinman…" Looking down at Sam, she grinned, "And you too, Wizard."

Following her away from the grave, Dean argued, "Hey! Why's he getta be the Wizard and I'm a lousy tin guy?"

She snorted.

This was going to be a very long job.

When Dean reached her side and unexpectedly took her hand, leading her in the direction of the car, smirking at her knowingly, she couldn't say she was really disappointed with the outcome so far. Walking dead, lying family friends and grave digging aside… She kind of liked working along with the Winchesters. Fingers interlocked with Dean's and his thumb stroking along her pulse, she could definitely say there were incentives.

"Scarecrow!" Dean argued. "Sam's more Scarecrow than Wizard."

"How about Toto?" she replied, half-smiling between them.

He shrugged, feigning like he didn't care. "I can live with that."

Sam rolled his eyes, but smiled lightly to himself.

Yeah, he was probably more Toto, anyway. Out to take a bite of the evil witch and stay true as a friend the whole way through. She imagined that fit him best.

Besides, if anybody was the Wizard, hiding truths and convincing those who trusted him of something else, it was Bobby Singer. But how the hell was she supposed to tell _these two_ that?  



	10. Chapter Nine

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**IX**.

Breaking and entering was like an art form to these two, Chloe was sure. Holding the flashlight while they worked their mojo on the locks, she rolled her eyes before taking another scan of the surrounding neighborhood. The last thing they needed was to be hauled in by the Sheriff and give her even _more_ reason to suspect the guys of wrong-doing. Even if they _were_ kind of breaking the law… It was for a good cause. Who didn't want to stop _zombies?_

The house was quiet, dark, which was to be expected since it was so late at night. But it had a sense of impending _bad_ when she stepped in behind them, keeping close to Dean and waving her flashlight along the area to be sure she had her eyes on everything she could. Her heart raced like it used to when she was on the trail of something big, bad and mysterious back when she was a teenager in Smallville. A smile curved her lips and she had to admit the thrill was much appreciated, even if it was a much darker scenario.

Sam and Dean split up and she wasn't surprised when her feet followed him rather than the taller of the two. Her flashlight passed over family pictures lined along a fireplace mantle, taking in happy faces and a family once together and now apart. Dean was looking at papers across a desk when she got the creepy-crawly feeling often followed by the arrival of someone she didn't want to see. Her spidey sense didn't fail her as only seconds later a fire poker was being swung through the air toward Dean's head.

"No!" she shouted instinctively. In the fraction of the moment where the iron would either connect with Dean's head or miss, she felt her chest ache so painfully her hand reached up to clutch it and her knees quivered at the full-body reaction. Inhaling sharply, the pain only increased.

Naturally, however, Dean drew back in time, letting the poker swing past and crash into a mirror, shattering it into tiny pieces. Not wasting a moment, he jumped into action, rushing forward and shoving the attacker to the ground with ease.

Sam was there in half-a-second and they all had their flashlights turned down in the man's direction.

The ache in her chest was gone as soon as the danger had been resolved and she found herself back in wary territory, staring at the man below with a mixture of anger and suspicion.

"Don't shoot me, please! There's money in the safe!" he told them, covering his head with his arm.

"We don't want your money," Dean replied, staring down at him with furrowed brows.

"What do you want? Anything! Please…"

"You're Clay Thompson, right?" Sam asked gruffly.

Lowering his arm, he looked up with wide eyes. "Who are you?"

"Uhm," Sam cleared his throat. "FBI."

Chloe didn't want to point the flaws in that; what with the breaking and entering, poking around with no immediate reason and that none of them really fit the part in their plain clothes attire. But, hey, who was she to argue?

"FBI," Clay murmured, standing from the floor. "Oh my god… This is about Benny."

"What-" Dean perked, interested. "What about Benny?"

"He killed me. He shot me in the back! I'm supposed to let him get away with that?"

Dean's brows rose high over his head before he looked between her and Sam. "Hold that part. Are you _confessing?_ "

"Please… I'll go with you. Just… Just don't wake my kids."

Dean and Sam exchanged confused looks.

She was starting to get the feeling that this whole zombie thing just got a whole lot weirder. From her experience, the bad guy rarely just gave up and walked quietly. And from her many years watching B-rated horror flicks with Lois, she also figured most undead would be feasting on flesh or terrorizing the city, not giving himself up and asking for them not to wake up the _kids_.

"Y-You'll go with us… where?"

"Jail."

Dean closed his eyes momentarily, took a deep breath and licked his lips. "Lemme get this straight… You're Clay Thompson and you died _five_ years ago."

"Yes."

Tip of the iceberg.

"And three days ago, you climbed out of your grave and you killed Benny Sutton."

Clay nodded. "Yes."

Iceberg's getting bigger.

Dean lifted an arm, waving his hand for emphasis. "So you are in fact a _dead guy_."

"I-I'm- Yes. No. I don't kn-know what I am," he admitted.

Huh, Titanic, meet the undead, homicidal, family-dad _iceberg_.

Dean stared, brows knotted together in disbelief.

"Weirder and weirder," Chloe murmured, putting a hand on her hip as she looked the zombie up and down. For a dead guy, he didn't look all that, well, _dead_. Sure there were some tell-tale dark rings under his eyes, but he was also wearing pajamas and had bed-head… His skin wasn't rotting and he was talking as normal as could be. She honestly expected to see somebody walking really slow, arms outstretched, moaning, " _Brains, Braaaaiiinnnnsss…_ "

"Clay," a female voice called out.

Three flashlights turned to the left, highlighting a confused blonde, her arms crossed overtop her pajama clad chest. "I called 911."

"It's okay, honey," Clay replied. "Th-These people are the FBI. They're here about Benny."

"Why don't you come with us, Mr. Thompson?" Dean suggested. "I think that'd be best."

Minutes later, they were escorting Clay outside, Chloe taking up the space at Dean's right, watching as he took out his silver gun from beneath his jacket.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, staring at him with wide eyes.

"He's a monster," Dean argued.

Face scrunched up righteously, Sam shook his head. "He's a soccer dad!"

"Now soccer _mom's_ …" Chloe interrupted snarkily, "Totally different deal."

Dean passed her a glib look. "What do you want to do with him?" he asked Sam.

"Drop him off at Zombie's R' Us?" Chloe suggested, grinning. She couldn't help it, this was just bizarre!

Before she could get a reply, a bright light was shined on them and a voice shouted, "Freeze! Drop your guns!"

Chloe turned her eyes heavenward. "You guys have worse luck than me," she sighed.

"Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean said, eyes wide as he lowered his gun to the ground.

Chloe wondered if she'd have time to back up and run free without being seen but then Dean was trying to shuffle her behind his back, whether to hide her from the Sheriff or their guns, she wasn't sure.

"You too, Blondie," the Sheriff ordered, turning sharp eyes on her.

"Not really the _packing_ type," Chloe snarked back, stepping forward from Dean's large shadow.

Dean turned withering eyes on her before giving an innocent laugh at the Sheriff. "All right, hey, remember that guy you said was dead and couldn't possibly commit murder?"

Chloe watched as his and Sam's faces curled in smug arrogance. Ah, the downfall of so many.

"There he is!" They pointed at a confused Clay Thompson.

"And?" the Sheriff replied nonchalantly.

Dean did a double-take. " _And?_ And you're welcome! For catching the undead killer zombie!"

The sheriff produced a pair of handcuffs then, staring at them with no surprise or appreciation. "Whatever he is or isn't, that don't give you the right to shoot him in the middle of the street," she replied, crossing the space between them to hook Dean up with handcuffs.

"Shoot me?" Clay exclaimed.

"You're free to go, Mr. Thompson," the Sheriff told him.

"Free to _go?_ " Dean repeated, flabbergasted.

"I can't believe you were gonna kill me!"

"You're a _zombie!_ " Dean replied, pursing his lips.

"I'm a tax-payer," Clay shot back.

Sam and Dean looked between each other as they were both cuffed and flabbergasted.

"Really glad I could come along for this," Chloe piped up. "Just for future reference though… I think I'd fair better if I stayed in the car."

"Chloe," Dean sighed.

"Not an argument… Just a statement of fact."

…

It wasn't long later that they were on the road once more.

Also cuffed and stuffed in the cramped backseat of the sheriff's car, Chloe shook her head. "Have I told you yet that your job kind of sucks?" she wondered.

Sam sighed. "It just goes unsaid."

Shifting to and fro, she frowned. "You guys are entirely too big." Trying to get comfortable, she failed miserably. Their shoulders were too wide for all three of them to be sitting side by side. And the way they sat, with their legs spread because they were too long, she felt like she was being suffocated. "I can't _breathe!_ "

Muttering under his breath, Dean shifted over, nudged her shoulder and before long, after some shifting and shoving, she was moved into his lap, her head leaned back on his shoulder and much more comfortable. Except that every inhale was filled with _all Dean_ and a reminder of last night and all that had happened. For a moment, her eyes fluttered closed and her chest seemed to clench with knowledge and want and a desire she couldn't quite tamp down. Shifting her hips side to side, she felt her skin heat up not out of embarrassment but a strong sense of unquenchable _want_. Without her say-so, her hips were rocking with slow purpose, grinding her butt down into his groin.

Grunting, Dean shook his head. " _Don't_ ," he growled.

"I c-can't help it," she sputtered, inhaling sharply for breath, feeling like all the air in the world couldn't help fill her lungs. Hands locked behind her back started moving, shifting his shirt up from his waist and fiddling with his belt.

"Ah God," he grunted at her ear. "Stop. Chloe, _stop!_ "

"I-I-" She shook her head, curling her fingers into her palm and trying.

"Hey," he murmured, drawing her attention.

She turned her head, still panting.

"Look at me."

Slowly, she opened her eyes, caught the look on his face, the darkening of his eyes, and melted. Dragging his nose along her cheek, he angled his head so he could kiss the corner of her mouth, but it wasn't enough. She wanted, she _needed_ more. Twisting her upper-half, she caught his mouth with hers, lips parted and tongue searching. Meeting her every inch of the way, he lost himself in the moment just as desperately. Lips claiming hers, tongues twining, teeth gnashing, they forgot air in trade for sweet, drugging kisses.

It felt like it did last night, where the rest of the world had dimmed and faded, forgotten. She felt cherished and wanted and _needed_ with an intensity she'd never known before. Even without his hands to stroke her, his lips evoked the same emotion. Slow or fast, their kisses made her chest bloom warm and full and her skin tingle with awareness and tender affection. She could feel an ache between her legs that needed filling; that needed _him_. Her arms wanted to wrap around his neck, her fingers bury in his hair and her nails claw down his back, marking him. Noses nuzzling, the satisfaction from that one kiss was just enough for now though. Smooth, firm lips fit across hers just right and his teeth nibbled in that one spot that made her shiver. She inhaled shakily and all she could smell and feel and taste was _him_.

"Guys," Sam sighed, rolling his eyes in irritation. " _Really_ not the time."

Dean didn't pause or stop, instead his mouth fled from hers to trail down her cheek and bury in her neck, suckling at her throat and dragging warm kisses all along her pulse. She whimpered. If he kept that up, she thought she might just come for him right then and there.

A loud clatter was what finally got their attention; a rap against the metal cage divider between the Sheriff in the front and them in the back. Breaking apart, their lips swollen and their breathing heavy, they stared at each other a long moment.

"Hands to yourselves, Bonnie and Clyde," the Sheriff ordered.

Licking her lips, Chloe managed to nod jerkily.

The rest of the ride was spent with her just resting her head on Dean's shoulder, her eyes closed, focusing on her breathing, in and out, the scent of him burning itself inside her nostrils.

It was all too soon when they arrived at the jail, walked inside and were forced apart as she was shoved into a separate cell from them, from _him_. Again she felt an ache in her chest, a clenching, but it wasn't the same as it had been earlier. It wasn't fear or concern, it was _loss_.

…

Dean didn't like this. He didn't like that they were separated, that he couldn't see her, that he didn't know exactly where she was or what was happening. It was driving him crazy. From where he sat on the bench, all he could see through the jail bars were the double doors leading into the office and his irritated brother standing across from him, hands stuffed in his pockets as he reconsidered the situation. If somebody could just let him know that she was all right, or where she was, maybe his chest would stop feeling like it was being sat on. Rubbing his hand over it, he frowned, tried to focus on the current screw up. "So what, Sheriff's on the take?" he asked, leaning back against the brick wall. It didn't relieve the pressure in his chest but it was cool on his neck, taking away some of the tension and the raw itch to his skin.

"Yeah, no," Sam replied, lifting an arm up in the air, "The zombies are paying her off?" he asked, unconvinced.

As a deputy walked by, Dean got distracted. "Hey! Hey!" Jumping up from his seat, he leaned against the bars. "Short, mouthy, blonde chick? You seen her?" He motioned with his hand to show just how tiny she was compared to him, but got nothing.

The deputy frowned in his direction and then pushed the double doors open, hauling a cuffed guy along with him.

Slamming his hand against the bars, Dean cursed under his breath. "Motherfucking, sonuva—"

"Dean, it's a small-town jail," Sam sighed, amused, "It's not like she was dragged off to Gitmo."

Glaring back at his brother, he took his seat, frowning at the floor.

Glancing through the swinging doors, Sam noted a familiar face. "Hey," he said, catching Dean's attention.

Sitting forward, Dean followed his gaze to see Bobby chatting with the Sheriff. Jaw hanging open, his brow wrinkled. "So, what, now they're _friends?_ "

Brow furrowed, Sam swallowed thickly, looking at his brother and then back out at Bobby.

Dean ran a hand down his mouth and shook his head. "Well hell, he better be bailing us out."

…

Thankfully, that was exactly what Bobby did. Only, he left one behind.

Rolling his eyes at the ceiling, Dean shook his head. "We can't leave her here."

"Why the hell _not?_ " Bobby wondered. "You don't know that woman and we can't be sure she's even on our side, not really."

" _Cas_ vouched for her!"

"Yeah!" he snorted. "And those angels are real _nice guys_."

"He's different." Dean shrugged. "And Chloe's…" He frowned, not sure how to word it.

"Look," Whirling his chair around, Bobby stared up at Dean darkly. "You got a thing for her, fine. Do your business and cut her loose, _like usual_. But don't go gettin' your head all tangled up with her. We got enough on our plates without _woman_ problems."

Pursing his lips, he simply glared.

"You wanna go get your little girlfriend, be my guest!" he groused.

Just as Dean was about to turn around and head back, she happened to pop up next to him.

"Guess the Sheriff tossed me in for free," Chloe said in greeting before turning her eyes on Bobby. "Group deal."

With a sigh of relief at seeing her, the pressure on Dean's chest even lightened and he had to hold himself back from the sudden desire to _hug_ her. What the hell! Clearing his throat, he nodded at her and then turned back around. Chloe wasn't paying attention however, as she appeared to be having a stare-down with Bobby.

With a grunt, Bobby turned his wheelchair around once more.

Breaking the tension, Sam said, "Bobby, I thought the Sheriff _hated_ you." Leaning down, he took hold of the handles and began pushing the wheelchair down the hallway.

"She _did_ , 'til five days ago."

"What happened five days ago?" Dean wondered.

He looked up at him like he was idiot. "Dead started rising all over town."

Dean's face scrunched up and he looked over at Chloe, who was frowning darkly and for some reason refusing to meet his eyes.

Sam was just as confused as him. "So you knew about this?"

"Yeah," he said casually.

Dean spread his hands out in a 'what the hell?' manner. "I think what Sam meant to say was…" He pointed his hands back at himself. "You _lied to us?_ "

With a sigh, Bobby took reign of his chair once more and turned it around so he was facing them. "Look… I told you there was nothing here and there _isn't_. Not for you."

Sam cleared his throat while Dean just looked irritated, his brows raising high on his forehead. Their conversation was forced to stop while a deputy walked by.

Free and clear, Dean narrowed his eyes. "There are _zombies_ here!"

"There are zombies and then there are _zombies_ ," Bobby said, cocking his head to one side.

"Right, obviously we should have checked Wikipedia to better distinguish which we were after," Chloe muttered.

Bobby glared in her direction before frowning back up at the boys.

Dean lifted a brow, wondering what he meant.

"Come with me," he said simply before turning around and wheeling away.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look before following, but he paused when he realized Chloe wasn't.

Stopping, he turned around, raising a brow as if to ask her what was up. When she didn't budge, he waved Sam ahead and crossed the space between them. He waited until he was sure there was nobody else to hear them, that the doors had closed and both his brother and Bobby weren't listening. Frowning, he waited impatiently for her to talk.

Chewing her lip, Chloe stared up at him from beneath long, dark lashes.

"So? We don't have time for twenty questions, sweetheart. Fess up or I'll carry you outta here."

Her lips quirked. "Look, I trust you guys, I do. But I'm starting to wonder about who _you_ trust."

"Who? Bobby?" He laughed incredulously. "He's _family_."

Clenching her teeth, she turned her eyes away.

"Yeah, he lied, but he's gotta have a good reason." He tried to catch her eyes, feeling like she was hiding a lot more than suspicion for one of his oldest friends. "Chloe?" When she still didn't look at him, he reached over and took her chin between his fingers, turning her face toward him. She didn't say a word, but he swore he knew exactly what she was thinking. "You knew, didn't you? That he was lying."

Swallowing tightly, she lifted a shoulder. "I suspected."

Brows furrowed, he shook his head. "And you didn't say anything?"

She scoffed. "Dean! You just finished telling me that he's your family. How was I supposed to tell you I thought he was lying? _Deceiving_ you for whatever reason?"

"Words work," he argued. "Hell, you coulda written it down if ya got tongue-tied!"

Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest. "He's your friend… And if I'm reading it right, possibly even more like a _dad_ to you…"

"Right, which is why if he was lying, maybe I wouldn't see it." He shrugged, feigning indifference. "It's why a pair of fresh eyes comes in handy."

"I'm not fresh eyes, not in something like this. In this, I'm a stranger. I'm the girl who walked in on your little team here and screwed things up."

Frowning, he shook his head. "Nobody said that."

"Because it was obvious enough." Staring up at him, she smiled sadly. "You think Bobby trusts me? You think he isn't going to give me the watered down beer or mutter Latin under his breath?"

"So what?" Feeling offended, he crossed his arms over his chest. "That's just Bobby, he's careful."

"He doesn't believe I am who I say I am… He thinks I'm some power-hungry demon or whatever, trying to trick you all into doing something you don't want to do…" She threw her hands up. "How am I supposed to fight with somebody you've known your whole life?"

He stared at her a long moment before finally sighing, "You don't."

She winced, but tried to cover it with a brittle smile and a nod.

"Hey," he said, tipping her chin once more so she couldn't look away from him. "Yeah, Bobby's like a dad to me. Probably better than a dad. But that doesn't mean he won't make mistakes. And it doesn't mean his lying means you have to lie too."

"I didn't—"

"Don't," he ordered thickly. "Not saying anything is the same as lying."

She pursed her lips, obviously disagreeing.

"You see something, you think something else is going on, you gotta _tell_ me." He stared at her firmly, searching her eyes. "You hear me, Goldilocks?"

She half-smiled. "Fine. But this goes both ways, Winchester. Quid pro quo."

He shrugged, nodding. "Works for me."

"Good."

"You wanna kiss on it?"

She snorted, rolling her eyes. "Or we could play catch up before they leave us behind."

Smirking, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "All this work is makin' you _dull_."

Chuckling lightly, she tossed a knowing look at him. "Yeah, and I bet you think you can spice me up, hm?"

He grinned devilishly.

"Leash the hormones. We've still got zombies to figure out, remember?"

He sighed. "It's all work with you."

"I seem to remember last night was decidedly _non_ work related."

Dean cleared his throat, thrown for a loop at her casual mention. "Yeah… About that…" He wanted to say he felt a noose at his neck, that her bringing it up felt more like he was being forced into something, but he kind of wanted to talk about it. Things like this, with her, just didn't happen to him. He was a 'just-passing-through-guy' and she was a 'bring-home-to-mom-girl.' Even ignoring the fact that his mom was long dead, dad too, he kind of wished he was the right guy, the guy that _would_ fit her, and know what the hell to say in this awkward moment. How was he supposed to tell her last night was incredible without sounding like a dumbass? _Hey, great time the other night, we should do it more often! In fact, why don't I bury my face in your—_ Hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, he forced his head to resume the thought process so his pants would shut up.

Chloe smiled lightly. "Relax, Dean… I'm not expecting a proposal or a 'let's go steady'. Things happened, they got a lot more out of our control than I think either of us expected and…" She shrugged, eyes turning away. "And we'll just have to be more… _careful_ next time."

"Right, yeah, careful."

She nodded, staring at the doorway leading out to the parking lot.

Releasing his arm from around her shoulders, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded for them to get going.

 _Careful_ wasn't the word he wanted to use in terms of them, though. Which was downright stupid because _he_ was the one who'd wanted to avoid it all in the first place. But now that he'd had a taste, and what a taste it was, he wanted more. He wanted _all_. But his upstairs brain and his downstairs brain weren't quite in tune just yet. There was a lot to be done, saving the world wasn't an overnight job, and much as he'd like to lose himself in her, he knew that it would be a very bad idea. So instead he tried to stay focused, tried to remind himself that zombies were a lot more important than stripping her down to nothing and having a repeat of last night. He failed, but hell, he gave it a good try.

…

After parking the car out front, Dean, Sam and Chloe followed Bobby inside his house. Not a word had been exchanged on the drive from the Sheriff's Department to Singer Salvage and Dean was getting irritated. While Sam was closing the front door, he finally asked, "You wanna tell us what the hell—"

"Hello Holly Homemaker," Chloe muttered under her breath, staring at the pretty woman currently setting the table.

She got the distinct feeling, what from both Sam and Dean's surprised faces, that this woman wasn't what they were used to seeing at Bobby's house.

"I'm really outta the loop right now, aren't I?" she whispered to Sam.

He glanced at her, eyes wide. "Makes you feel better, I think we are, too."

"Oh hey," the woman greeted, smiling sweetly at Bobby. "I didn't realize you were bringing company."

Now that she looked a little closer, Chloe noticed the dark rings beneath the woman's eyes, tell-tale zombie sign, at least since meeting Clay Thompson.

"It's four am, baby, you didn't need to cook," Bobby replied, grinning as he moved closer.

Chloe noticed the distinct change in Bobby, from the often annoyed guy she'd met to a much softer, gentler and affectionate looking man. A man, she would say, very much _in love_.

"Oh, please," the woman scoffed. "I'll get some more plates!"

The four of them watched her leave the room, a bounce in her step, and then Bobby turned apologetic and even _worried_ eyes in their direction.

Dean's mouth opened as if to say something and then his brow furrowed, before he finally asked, "Who is that?"

"Karen. My wife."

Dean's face fell. "Your _new wife_?" he asked with an air of unlikely hope.

Bobby paused, eyes glancing around momentarily. "My dead wife."

He nodded, licking the inside of his lip in a way that said he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to say to that.

"She's… pretty," Chloe offered, hoping to ease some of the tension. "And she seems nice."

Bobby cleared his throat, glanced at her and then nodded. "She is."

"Well, whatever she made smells good," Sam put in, half-smiling awkwardly.

Bobby grinned with pride. "She's a wonderful cook."

And how right he was. Not long after, they were all served at the table and Dean didn't hesitate to stuff his mouth full. "Mmm," he moaned, "Mm, this is _incredible_ , Mrs. Singer!"

"Thank you, Dean," she replied with a soft smile.

Grinning, he chewed happily with his mouth open.

Clearing his throat, Sam gave him a look and Chloe only shook her head. "Is this made from scratch?" she wondered. "Because this is even better than Clark's mom's…"

Dean cut a look at her, frowning. "Clark," he muttered. Seeing another of Sam's bitchfaces, he asked, "What?" He motioned down to his plate with a wide-eyed emphasis, "It _is!_ "

Sam glanced down at the plate, brows heavy above his eyes and then let it go.

Serving out a little more to Bobby, Karen smiled at her husband.

"That's great, Karen. Thanks," he told her. As she rubbed his shoulder affectionately, he asked, "Could you, uh, just give us a minute?" Patting his shoulder, she looked around at the others and then moved to leave.

"Why don't I join you?" Chloe offered, moving her chair back from the table. "We can trade recipes. I've got this casserole that you will just _die_ for…"

Dean immediately reached out and stopped her from following, turning serious eyes on her.

Realizing why, she leaned across. "Dean… I think it's been established that these aren't the same zombies we've seen in movies… If she makes a move for my brain, I'll call you," she assured sarcastically.

His jaw ticked as he struggled with whether or not letting her go was a smart idea. But she wasn't waiting for his approval. Instead, she rose from her seat and ran her fingers along his temple soothingly as she left to follow Karen into the kitchen, hearing just as she left their immediate vicinity, Dean's voice growl, "Are you crazy? What the hell?" at Bobby.

…

Dean immediately regretted letting Chloe leave to talk recipes with some _undead_ woman. Wife of Bobby's or not! So yeah, she made a mean pie, but hell! That was his—his… Well, that was _Chloe_ in there and he knew entirely too little about this zombie thing for him to be comfortable with her out of sight. Not only that but the ache in his chest was acting up again. What was that? Gas? Heartburn? In any case, he had to focus.

"Are you crazy? What the hell?" he growled at Bobby, mimicking Sam's same position leaning against the table for optimum whisper-shouting.

"Dean, I can explain…"

"Explain _what?_ Lying to us?" he asked, motioning between him and Sam. "Or the American Girl Zombie trading cupcake recipes with my- with _Chloe_ in your kitchen!"

"First of all," Bobby replied in a dark tone, "That's my _wife_ , so _watch it_."

"Bobby, whatever that thing is in there, it is _not_ your wife!" Sam argued.

"And how do you _know_ that?" he shot back.

"You're serious?"

"You think I'm an _idiot_ , boy? My _dead wife_ shows up my doorstep, I'm not gonna _test_ her every way I ever _learned?_ " He cut a look between them. "You don't see me questioning you on your sudden _soul mate_ screw up!"

Ignoring the barb, Dean shook his head, "So what is it? Zombies? Revidens?"

"Hell if I can tell."

Dean pursed his lips, eyes narrowed in question.

"She's got no scars, no wounds… No reaction to salt, silver, holy water."

"Bobby, she _crawled_ out of her _coffin_."

"No, she didn't," Bobby murmured, eyes widening, "I cremated her."

Okay, now he was _really_ confused. Dead people did not rise from the grave, but dead _cremated_ people didn't just grow _bodies!_

"Somehow, some _way_ , she's back!"

"That's impossible," Sam said.

"Tell me about it!"

"You buried her ashes?"

"Yeah."

"Where?" Dean asked.

"In the cemetery. That's where they all rose from."

Dean's brows cinched. "How many?"

"Fifteen, twenty, I—" He reached into his shirt pocket. "I made a list." He passed it to Sam's outstretched hand and then started listing all the names, ticking them off with his fingers as he went, "There's a Karen, Clay, Sheriff Mills… her, uh, her little boy came back."

Dean leaned back; things with the Sheriff were starting to make a lot more sense now. She couldn't be shocked that a dead dude was walking around if her own dead son was now hanging out at home.

"An-And there were no signs? No omens?" Sam asked.

"Well," Bobby nodded his head side-to-side. "There were the lightening storms."

Dean threw his hand in the air before slamming it back down on the table with a clang. "That's what we said. What else?"

Looking back and forth between them, Bobby gave a small sigh and then wheeled himself back from the table before turning toward the desk in the corner of the room. Grabbing up a thick book, he held it in his lap and thumbed through it to the page he'd marked, before reading aloud, "And through the fire stood before me a pale horse, and he that sat atop him carried a scythe, and I saw that since he had risen they too shall rise, and from him, and through him…"

Dean felt a chill ran over him, his blood run cold in a vicious flow of rage. "So what? Death is behind this?"

" _Death_ -Death?" Sam asked. "Like Grim Reaper Death?"

"Yeah," Bobby sighed, rolling back to the table.

Rubbing his hand across his forehead and eyes as a headache began to form, Dean muttered, "Awesome. Another Horseman. Must be Thursday."

Sam rose from his chair, walking around the table. "Bobby, why would Death raise fifteen people from a podunk town like Sioux Falls?" he wondered, grabbing up the book he'd been reading from.

Frowning, he shook his head. "I don' know."

Arm over the back of his chair, Dean waved a hand through the air. "You know, if Death is behind this, then whatever these things are…" He shook his head slightly, staring at Bobby with dark, serious eyes, "It's not good."

Sad and even a little scared, Bobby looked up at him with almost-hopeful eyes while Dean could only stare back with bleak knowing.

"You know what we have to do here."

"She doesn't remember anything, you know," Bobby murmured.

"What do you mean?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"Being possessed, me killing her… Her coming back."

Dean looked down. "Bobby…"

"No," He shook his head, eyes falling closed, "No, don't _Bobby_ me…Just… Just listen, okay?" They paused, waited, and heard the humming coming from the kitchen. "She hums when she cooks… Yeah… She always… used to hum when she cooked. Tone deaf as all hell, but…" His voice fell to an emotional whisper, "And I never thought I would hear it again."

A sweet laugh broke through to them as Karen and Chloe shared a moment.

Feeling sorry and not sure what to do, Dean looked to his brother.

"Look, just read Revelations," Bobby exclaimed hurriedly, "Th-the dead _rise_ during the apocalypse, there's nothing in there that says that's _bad!_ Hell, maybe it's the one good thing that comes out of this whole bloody mess!"

Dean pursed his lips, swallowing tightly. Leaning forward, he glanced at the kitchen, where he could clearly see Chloe sitting on a counter top, smiling brightly at Karen Singer, nodding to something she was saying. "And what would do if you were us?" he asked Bobby.

Stricken, Bobby looked from him to Sam and then down at the table before shaking his head sorrowfully. "I know what I'd do… And I know what you think you gotta do… But, I'm beggin' ya…" He shook his head slowly. "Please." He turned to Sam, his eyes damp with tears. "Please." He returned his gaze to Dean. "Leave her be…"

…

A half hour later, Dean, Sam and Chloe were seated at a diner.

Stirring his coffee, Sam asked, "So whaddya think?"

"There's nothin' to think about. We're not gonna leave Bobby at home with the Bride of Frankenstein."

Chloe scoffed. "You hardly met her," she reminded. "She's completely normal and nice… even for someone who recently rose from the dead."

Scowling, Dean looked at her. "Right, and that's not somethin' we can just ignore. She's dead and now she's undead… That's not how it works!"

Chloe stared at him, cocked a brow and then lifted her coffee to sip, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Then whaddya wanna do?" Sam asked, incredulously. "Just walk in there in front of Bobby and blow her skull off?"

"Well gee, I'm glad I got that recipe before you two came up with _this_ brilliant idea!"

Sighing, Dean rubbed at his temples. "Chloe, you've gotta see this from where we're sitting…"

"Last I checked, I was sitting on the same side as you, in the same car, on the same job!" She stared at him with wide eyes. "You've got no proof that these people are doing anything more than getting a second chance…" She frowned. "Well, except for Clay Thompson… He probably shouldn't have killed that other guy. But _Karen_ … She hasn't done _anything_ wrong. She's just happy to be home, with her husband…" She stared up at him searchingly. "If you were in Bobby's place, if this was _your wife_ , could you honestly still say it was a good idea to do this?"

Clenching his jaw, he looked away. "Sometimes, we've gotta make a decision based on everybody and not just one person."

"Without any proof, you're jumping to conclusions about these people. _People_ , Dean… They're not zombies… At least they're not so far!"

"Yeah, well, if she decides that Bobby's face is a blue plate special, I'd like to be there."

"So we keep an eye on them, but let's not run around, guns blazing, until we're sure…" Chloe looked beneath them, her expression stern. "Okay?"

"Fine…" Sam rose from his seat. "See what else I can find out."

Tossing a few bills down on the counter for coffee, Dean helped Chloe put her jacket back on without even realizing what he was doing. And before long, Sam was on the zombie trail while he and Chloe were on their way back to Singer Salvage.

…

With Chloe safely tucked away in the backseat of the Impala, typing away at her laptop, Dean leaned against the side of his car, staring at the imposing figure Bobby's house cut in the distance. He honestly couldn't count how many times he'd been there, how many times he'd found a safe haven at the Singer house. The man that lived there was more a father to him than John had been. And even now, with all this apocalypse shit going down, Bobby didn't toss him out or turn his back on him. Which was what made this all so much worse. There was a goddamn zombie in there; one that looked, talked, smiled, and cooked just like Bobby's wife. One that didn't follow the usual zombie stereotypes. There was the old saying that if it walked like a duck, quacked like a duck, looked like a duck, then hell, it was a duck. But this chick was a zombie and she did everything like a regular every day living human would. So what did that really make her? Swiping a hand over his mouth as if to clear the emotion that clung to his face, he sighed, hating that this was another of those life or death questions he seemed to always have to answer.

Deep in thought, he hadn't heard the approach but felt a presence and immediately looked to his right to find none other than Karen Singer staring back at him. Choking in surprise, he stood upright. _Hell_ , he hated being caught off guard like that, and by a freakin' zombie of all things!

"Oops," she said, furrowing her brows. "Did I scare you?"

"No," he replied quickly, half-smiling. "No. No, there's nothin' scary about you at all."

Except the whole _dead-woman-living_ thing…

She smiled. "Would you like some lunch?"

Dean grinned awkwardly. "Uh, I'm good, _thanks_ …"

Although… That pie she made was _seriously_ good.

As if reading his mind, she encouraged, "Come on, there's more pie."

"I don't think that Bobby wants me inside."

"Guess it'll have to our secret then, huh," she replied, lifting her brows. "Come on!" Turning, she started toward the house.

Sighing, he decided he had no choice and knelt down next to the window. "Hey," he said, drawing Chloe's attention. "You wanted me to get to know her, Goldi, so you're coming with…"

Chloe snickered. "Not scared of her, are you?"

He frowned. "She's a zombie homemaker; I think I can take her."

Grinning, she rolled her eyes but put her laptop away and crawled out of the car to join him. "Did you want to hold my hand from support? Should I walk in front of you to keep you safe?"

"You're hilarious, you know that?"

Smirking, she hooked her arm with his as they walked toward the stairs. "Buckets of laughs," she replied lightly. "Did she say there was pie leftover?"

Dean chuckled under his breath.

…

So when she thought of leftover pie, she thought she and Dean might have to fight over the last slice. And then she realized every available surface in the kitchen was covered in Karen's specialty home baked goods. This took cooking as a pastime to a whole new level. If ever one was to ask, "What would you do if you returned from the dead?" Chloe couldn't say her first idea would be to bake twenty pies… Although, it might seem like heaven to Dean, who was currently scarfing down his third piece with no sign of getting full. While he leaned against the table, rolling his eyes upward in enjoyment at another bite, Chloe was peeking at the many ingredients around. While she and Karen had spoken earlier, she wasn't willing to give up her _secret_ to the best pie and Chloe was nothing if not entirely too curious.

Wiping her hands on her apron, Karen closed the sliding doors that separated the room where Bobby was napping in his chair and the kitchen. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that you like _pies_ …" Dean drawled, looking around with a grin. "Did you make all these?" he wondered, glancing at Chloe.

Looking up from where she was perusing through ingredients, she shrugged.

Karen grinned. "I don't know what it is; ever since I got back I can't stop baking."

By her judgment, Chloe would say that was pretty tame considering the whole zombie angle. "You know, if you wanted some _help_ with this baking, I'm very up for it!" she offered, smiling warmly. "All these guys do is drive around, bitch at each other and hunt creepy crawlies…" She rubbed her hands together and then shoved her sleeves up. "Let's start with the secret ingredient!"

Karen laughed lightly. "Tenacious, aren't you?"

"Just a tad," Dean said, sarcastically. Then looked around once more, "All this baking… God, when d'you have time to sleep?"

Not missing a beat or even pausing as she added this and measured that, Karen replied simply, "I _don't_." Her smile waivered. "Must be all the excitement."

Dean glanced at Chloe before saying glibly, "Or being dead."

Sighing, Chloe crossed the room to sit next to him on the table. "If I'm tenacious, he's the epitome of blunt…" She smiled weakly. "Sorry."

Karen didn't look back to them, instead rubbing her hands off on her apron before returning to kneading dough. "I know you don't trust me," she said honestly.

"Why would you say that?" Dean asked, eyes narrowing as he stared at her suspiciously.

"Come on, Dean…" She inhaled shakily. "That's why you're here, isn't it? Keeping an eye on me?"

"I'd like to say for the record, I'm only here because he's overprotective," Chloe piped up, before giving Dean a 'be nice' look.

He ignored it, lips pursing as he continued to stare a hole into Karen's head.

When she tried to draw his attention, wanting to break the tension, he only reached over and put his hand atop her, quieting her. He squeezed, dragged his thumb along her pulse, and she had to wonder if he was trying to shut her up or turn her on. Either way, he was doing both.

Turning around, Karen stared at him knowingly. "I know who you are… Just like I know Bobby isn't the same mild-mannered _scrap_ dealerI married…"

Clearly uncomfortable with anybody knowing that, Dean licked the inside of his lip and forced his eyes from her penetrating stare, turning his gaze toward Chloe. She remembered how he'd been when he had to tell _her_ about his life, how he'd quickly interrupted Cas from spilling too much before he could try and ready her for the shock. And she remembered just how dark his life became with each story, each bit of information. How his face had clouded and his shoulders slumped, defeat so close to catching up. She squeezed his hand suddenly, wanting to support him, to tell him that Karen knowing didn't have to be a bad thing, that this could all turn out a lot better than he expected. But Dean was the guy who always thought the worst was coming and unfortunately, he was usually right.

"You hunt things," Karen said quietly.

His eyes returned to her and Chloe thought he might even try to laugh it off right then.

"I-I'm a _thing._ " She nodded, trying to look brave and understanding.

This woman, Bobby's _wife_ , a person who baked pies and stayed up until four in the morning to make sure her husband and his friends were well-fed, was calling herself a _thing_. It wasn't right.

"I get it," Karen added.

Dean's face furled in a mix of wary suspicion. "So you know that Sam and I would never let anything happen to Bobby. He's like a father to us." His grip tightened on Chloe's hand, squeezing almost painfully, though he didn't show any signs of the true emotion on his face. Raising her free hand, she slid it up his arm and around his bicep, thumb stroking along the tensed muscles that laid there.

"I understand," she said, shaking her head. "And he's lucky to have you lookin' out for him, Dean. But you're not the only one." She raised her chin in a sign of pride, of strength, and Chloe couldn't help a smile.

Dean didn't look convinced. "Is that so?"

Taking a deep breath, Karen turned back around to her baking table, lifting the ball of dough into her hands and volleying it back and forth with haste, emotion clear in her movements. "I remember everything you know," she said with forced cheer. "When I died… That demon takin' over my body…" She looked down at her dough, her brow furrowing. "The things it made me _do_ …" She swallowed tightly. "And Bobby having _no choice_ but to… Well, you know what he did…"

Dean's eyes fell, his jaw ticked, and he looked over at her with an expression Chloe just couldn't decipher.

"But I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me… The _guilt_ … weighs on him."

Shaking his head, he asked, "So why don't you just tell him you remember?"

Chloe rolled her eyes; she liked him, she really did, but sometimes he was just _so_ thickheaded!

Karen turned around, her eyes wide. "Oh… I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say you two haven't been in love long…" She looked at Chloe, turned her head to one side and sighed. "You're either really new to the game or you haven't hit any hurdles yet."

Chloe felt a flush to her cheeks and shook her head. "I know apologizing for him is probably starting to sound like a theme here, but…" she sighed, "Even if _he_ doesn't get it, I do."

Dean frowned. "Get _what?_ Exactly."

Karen smiled gently. "He's my _husband._ My _job_ is to bring him _peace_." She shook her head slowly. "Not pain."

Chloe could clearly see as dawning fell across Dean's face. He turned, lips parted as if he wanted to say something but then just stared at her a long moment.

"How long has it been?" she wondered, looking between them. "I hope you won't think I'm prying, I just…" She smiled. "You remind me of Bobby, I guess… So overprotective, even nurturing…" She chuckled lightly, "But trying so hard to pretend you're not."

Deep thought over, Dean just looked _flabbergasted_ by Karen's insight.

Chuckling lightly, Chloe lifted a shoulder. "I'm not sure _nurturing_ is a word he's ever had thrown at him."

Karen only grinned. "A year then? Or two?"

She looked to Dean with an amused smile. "What is it? Thursday? Guess that makes it… Five, maybe six days?"

"Almost a week of non-stop fun," he replied with a sarcastic grin.

Eyes wide, Karen nodded slightly. "Days? _Really_?"

"It's a long story," Chloe said with a shrug, before she hopped down from the table. "One I'd be willing to tell in trade for that secret ingredient of yours."

Laughing warmly, she shook her head. "Start from the beginning and we'll see if it's worth it."

Nodding, Chloe joined her at the table. "Okay… So it all started about six days ago, after driving for a week straight out of some strange _need_ that was making me _crazy_ , when I stopped at this really dingy looking bar--"

"Hey!" Dean interrupted, "That place was high-class."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it was a regular Paris Hilton hang out…" Cocking her hip, she asked, "Can I continue now, or do _you_ want to tell it?"

Holding his hands up in innocence, Dean motioned for her to go on, though she knew he wasn't going to let her version run through without a little Winchester commentary. Hopefully, it'd be enough to get that secret out of Karen. She _really_ needed to know what made her pies pop!

As their bizarre tale continued, with a little laughter from all involved, they spent the next hour or so regaling Karen with the unusual happenstance of how they met and why, not knowing that across town Sam was currently finding himself in some trouble with Ezra Jones, one of the women on the list Bobby had given him of those who'd risen from the dead. And it seemed her bad health was showing, in way of foaming at the mouth, skin decomposition, and a lust for human entrails.

Oh, goody.  



	11. Chapter Ten

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**X.**

Dean was in the middle of laughing through a mouthful of pie when Sam called. His expression quickly dimmed, replaced with the same dark knowing Chloe was used to seeing on him. After a short conversation, he wiped his hand over his mouth to get rid of any leftover crumbs and then pushed the remaining half-slice of pie away from himself. She took that as a very bad sign. "Hey, this has been great, Mrs. Singer, but, uh, Sammy needs me and Chloe to meet him downtown…" He shrugged casually. "It's his time of the month and he's throwing a fit…" Dragging his jacket on, he reached for Chloe's and pulled it off the back of the chair before holding it up for her to put on. "Bobby wakes up, just let him know we'll be back in a bit, all right?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding, though her expression too had dimmed.

Dean was already trying to leave out the door, dragging Chloe beside him by the hand while she waved goodbye. "Hey thanks for the recipe!" she called after her before hurrying to keep up with Dean. Glaring up at him, she whisper-shouted, "If this is a marathon, you need a new partner! My legs aren't as long as yours!"

He managed a smile, but it was forced for her benefit. And Chloe knew things with Karen had just become a lot tenser. She gave a sad look back at the house where the happily reunited couple was bound to get an angry wake up call.

Twenty minutes later, they met Sam out front of Ezra Jones house, cutting the engine and climbing out of the Impala to join him on the porch, where he sat on the steps looking miserable and constantly grimacing before wiping absently at his face.

"What's up?"

Standing, Sam sighed. "Nothing good."

Chloe frowned. "I'm starting to think that's the theme of your job."

"Probably is," Dean muttered before climbing up the stairs.

He didn't bother knocking, instead simply pushing the door open wide and walking inside. Reeling back, he wrinkled his nose. "Phew… What is that _smell?_ "

This time, Chloe could agree there was something in the air and it definitely wasn't _soap_.

"That would be at least two dead bodies," Sam replied on a heavy exhale.

"Two?" Chloe asked, walking alongside Dean.

Arm out, Dean held her back from getting too far in front of him, trying to keep her as much hidden as possible.

Knowing he was trying to protect her, but still irritated that he was pulling the macho-guy routine, she reminded, "They're _dead_ , Dean."

"Yeah, and if you haven't noticed, they like to get better around here!"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't argue.

Walking through the mess of the living room, where furniture and clothes were stacked, the smell became more pungent.

"Ah, hell," Dean muttered, shaking his head. He stopped for a moment and then waved for her to get back.

Crossing her arms over her chest petulantly, she didn't budge.

"Fine, but he takes a bite outta you…"

"Yeah, yeah…"

Stepping to the side, he moved to kneel in between the two bodies spread out on the floor. One had tears along his stomach, bite marks evident, while the other looked like it had been dead a very long time, despite the fact that it had a noticeably recent bullet wound and wet blood circling the mouth and floor. "Your work?" she wondered, motioning as she glanced at Sam.

Grimacing, he nodded.

"Foaming at the mouth, huh," Dean muttered.

"Yes," Sam sighed with a sneer, wiping at his face once more.

Suddenly, Chloe realized this very old, very dead woman had drooled or _foamed_ all over Sam's face. Part of her wanted to laugh, but looking at the white goop stuck around the dead woman's face, most of her just wanted to heave.

"I'm guessin' this one's the zombie and the dude's an innocent bystander."

"Her husband, I think," Sam said, nodding. "And she wasn't the entirely-mindless type either. She was smart enough to lure me closer rather than just go for the kill."

Dean smirked. "You fell for that?"

Not amused, he stared back at him with a frown. "You know what this means, don't you?"

Humor gone, Dean shook his head. "Yeah… Exactly what I _thought_ would happen is happening…"

Chloe stared down at Ezra Jones and couldn't help a stab of pity. Could this really be what sweet Karen Singer would be reduced to? She swallowed tightly, forcing her eyes away. Life just wasn't fair.

Seeming to realize what she was thinking, Dean stood, reaching across and tugging her up by her hand before turning her away from the carnage. "I'll fix it," he told her, in the most comforting voice she'd ever known. She wanted to trust him, wanted to believe he'd do just that, but inside, deep down, she knew the truth. He _couldn't_ fix this, not _really_. Not in the way she or Bobby or Karen wanted… But Dean didn't want to hurt her by telling her the truth, even if it was obvious. He wanted her to have peace, not pain, and she truly loved him for that.

…

The drive to Bobby's was tense, made all the more so by the utter silence that dominated the Impala. Huddled in the back, Chloe hugged her arms around herself. She'd laughed with this woman, baked with her, traded stories and recipes and… and… And Dean was going to have to _kill_ her before she killed anybody else. Like Bobby. She couldn't honestly say she trusted or even _liked_ Bobby, but she understood his motivation now. It wasn't every day that a dead wife came back and the two people he saw as family wanted to take her away again… It brought up feelings she'd rather not think about. If it were Jimmy, if he had risen from the dead, would she have done what Bobby did? Would she have hidden him away and hoped for the best?

In this instance, under the circumstances she was now facing… She looked at Dean, her brows furrowing, and she realized that what she and Jimmy had was nothing like what Bobby and Karen had, or even what she and Dean had… Would she help Jimmy if that were to happen? Yes, of course! But could she keep him at home with her, or have him tag along with her and the Winchester brothers while she tried to help Dean in whatever way she could, furthering their fight against Lucifer and this screwed up war? No… And she couldn't walk away from it, either. She couldn't hand in her All-Access pass to the apocalypse and hope Dean the best while she ran off into the sunset with her newly living ex-husband…

Swallowing tightly, she realized that while she'd loved Jimmy, deeply, she was no longer _in love_ with him. She hadn't been the wife to him that Karen had been to Bobby. She hadn't given him peace, she'd given him _pain_ , often, with her lies and her deceit. Even _if_ she thought she was doing it to keep both him and the team safe, she'd still left him in the dark, had let him believe he was wrong, he was crazy even, rather than tell him the truth. And maybe this was just how it was meant to be. Maybe people died and were lost and it hurt, but the world kept moving, kept spinning, and those in it had no choice but to move on and accept and do their best to live again.

Was that what she was doing with Dean? Because she looked at him, she knew what he'd been through and she knew that it still hurt him, but she hadn't healed him. She'd been there for him, supported him, listened when he spoke and argued when it was needed, but she hadn't taken that pain away, not really. What did she have to do? What did she have to say or know or be that would help him in this? Why couldn't this destiny thing come with a freaking _manual?_

Bobby's house appeared in the distance and she felt a shiver run down her spine. Knowing. Sadness. Bitter acceptance. Sam climbed out as soon as the car slowed, but Dean stayed behind. "You don't have to come in," he offered. Though he didn't look at her, the emotion was clear in his face. Always trying to keep her safe, trying to shield her from things, from _him_ and his life. She wanted to appreciate that, she did, but she knew she couldn't stay in the dark.

"The one time you want to leave me alone and defenseless in the car is when you're _sure_ that these undead people are really zombies?" she replied, forcing a grin.

He half-smirked, turning his head to look back at her. "You know… It's like this a lot… It's not…" He shook his head, swallowing tightly. "It doesn't get _easier_ , Chloe."

She nodded, her eyes falling for a moment. "I know."

He sighed, shook his head. "Then why the hell are you still here?" He laughed humorlessly. "If _I_ could get outta here, I'd be gone already."

Leaning forward in the seat, she rested her chin on his forearm spread along the back of the seat. "No, you wouldn't… You wouldn't give up or give in and you can't expect me to either…" She smiled lightly, reaching across to stroke his temple with the tips of her fingers, watching as his eyes fell to half-mass. "Dean, I know your life isn't easy or fun and I know you hate it a lot of the time… I also know that there's a reason you live the life you do and a reason why you don't leave it behind…" She frowned. "Destiny's a bitch and you probably hate it. But here I am and like I've told you before… I'm not going anywhere."

He stared at her a long moment and then let out a long breath. "You're crazy, you know that? Screwed up, demon hunting, destined meatsuit for some Archangel in an apocalyptic war gives you an out, you should take it."

Her lips curled at the corners. "Yeah, but he's kinda cute… When that wears off, I'm definitely out."

He snorted, a genuine grin making his eyes wrinkle at the corners.

"You ready?"

He nodded shortly and before long they were climbing out of the Impala to join Sam inside the house, meeting a very irritated Bobby Singer in the front hallway. "Keep your damn voices down, Karen's upstairs," he told them sternly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dean replied sarcastically, "We're a little tense right now." Standing side by side with Sam, whose arms were crossed over his chest, he asked, "Who's Old Lady Jones?"

"First one to come up," Bobby told them.

"First one to go _bad_ ," Sam said with a knowing nod.

"Ah, she was always a nutty broad," he shrugged off, unconvinced.

"Nutty how?" Dean wondered, "Nutty like she _ate_ her husband's stomach? Was that the level of nutty she was in life?"

Chloe wrinkled her nose with distaste. Lovely image, she thought, especially since she'd actually seen it firsthand.

Bobby stared at them, purposely emotionless. "No."

"Look Bobby, I feel for ya but you have _got_ to acknowledge that you're not exactly seein' this straight!"

Angry now, Bobby's hands fell to his wheels as he began moving himself away from them.

"Bobby, whether you admit it or not, these things are _turning_. We have to stop them! All of them!" Sam added.

Chloe sighed. "You guys have _got_ to work on your one-on-one skills when it comes to these kinds of things." Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked at Bobby while he sat guarding the doorway. "Look, we haven't seen eye to eye, I'll be the first to admit that. And your wife… She's… Amazing," she admitted, nodding. "Really, she is… But if you could've _seen_ what Mrs. Jones did to her husband…" Eyes falling, she shook her head. "Maybe she wasn't a monster when she came back, but she _turned into_ one."

"Yeah, and what would _you_ know about monsters, Girlie?" he snapped back.

"Hey, she's just tryin' to help," Dean argued, raising his arm in front of her as if to not only draw her back but cover her from Bobby's words.

Bobby scoffed. "Ain't this just _sweet_. I got a wife upstairs you wanna _kill_ and you got a girlfriend you're actually trying to save from _me!_ "

"Bobby, we only want to help you," Sam said, stepping forward.

With a dark look, Bobby shook his head, reached down into the side of his chair and pulled out a gun. "Time to go," he told them simply.

"What?" Dean asked, shocked.

"You heard me. Off my property."

Chloe's brows furrowed. Taking a step back, she looked up at Dean, whose face had curled in absolute confusion.

"Or _what?_ " Sam asked, a catch to his voice. "You'll shoot?"

" _If_ Karen turns, _I_ will handle it. _My_ way," he said decidedly.

"This is dangerous," Dean reminded, his teeth grit.

Bobby cocked his gun. "I'm not tellin' ya twice."

Chloe felt pressure in her chest, an ache that stung with awareness. She winced, reached up and tugged on Dean's arm to get him moving. He glanced at her, sent one last angry look at Bobby, and then moved to her to his side, blocking her from Bobby's aim as the three of them left.

Climbing into the car with even more tension in the air than there'd been on the ride over, Dean slammed his foot down on the accelerator and sped them out of the immediate Singer property, only to pull over just outside the surrounding sheet metal walls. "He's crazy," he announced.

"It's his _wife_ , Dean," Sam reminded on a sigh.

Brows furrowing in disbelief, he exclaimed, "So he goes Full Metal Jacket on us? We're his _family_ , Sam!"

Knowing she _really_ wasn't a part of this discussion, –read, _argument_ \- Chloe sat in the backseat quietly, looking back and forth between them.

"Look man, _bigger fish_ , okay? I mean, we've gotta bunch of zombies about to turn this town into a giant _chew toy_!"

"Yeah, and he's alone in the house makin' _pie_ with one of 'em!"

"All right, so?"

" _So?_ " He paused. "So I'm gonna have to go back in there and- and _kill her!_ "

Chest aching once more, Chloe leaned forward, eyes wide. "Was I _seeing_ things, or did he not just have a _gun_ aimed for us?"

"It's the only thing _I_ can think of!"

"If he _sees you_ , you're a _dead man!_ " Sam told him.

"Yeah, and I don't think having _you_ turn zombie is part of the plan!" Chloe exclaimed.

Shaking his head, Dean shrugged, "Well then, I guess I won't let him see me."

Rolling her eyes, she snickered. "What a _plan_ , Sherlock! Why didn't _we_ think of that!"

Sam sighed, turning his head away before finally saying, "Okay."

"Okay?" Chloe stared at them, boggled. "Uh, _no_ , not okay!"

"Look, I'll be careful," Dean told her.

"Careful?" she repeated. "All I've seen you guys do is run headlong into danger since I _met_ you. And now you're trying to, _what?_ Go undetected by a seasoned hunter who probably showed you two a few hundred things? _No!"_ Shaking her head, she glared at him firmly. "You're not going back in there!"

Jaw clenching, he whirled around in the seat. "This isn't negotiable, Chloe. I'm goin' back in, I'm gonna _kill_ her, and if Bobby gets in the way then, I dunno, I'll knock him out or something!"

"Do you even _hear_ yourself? You don't have a _plan_ , Dean. You have a half-assed idea that you're just executing." Sighing, she ran her fingers through her hair in a nervous gesture. "You're emotional and worried, I get that. But that doesn't mean you need to run in there and get yourself killed!"

Lips firmed, he smiled sarcastically. "I've lasted this long, I think I can do this without your say-so!"

"Well tough shit," she spat, "Because whether you want it or not, you've _got_ my opinion. And since I have no emotional attachment to the people in there, I'm obviously better suited to make related decisions."

"You made _pie_ with her less than an hour ago!" he shouted.

"Yeah, well pie's not much in the grand scheme, all right!"

"The grand scheme here is makin' sure Bobby and everybody else gets outta here alive and safe!" he growled.

"Everybody else _includes_ you, you jackass!"

Eyes wide, he threw his hand up. "Name calling, _seriously?_ "

"Guys, if you don't stop yelling, the whole town's gonna know what we're up to," Sam intervened.

"Good," Chloe claimed, "Then he won't have any reason to go running in there like an idiot!"

"This _idiot_ just wants to keep his _friend_ from getting eaten by his dead damn wife!"

"To be perfectly honest, she could eat _two_ of Bobby as long as you don't get yourself killed!"

Expression darkening, Dean's jaw ticked. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that."

Glaring, she muttered, "Pretend all you want."

"Look, while you two have this out, I'm gonna, you know… head to town," Sam sighed, "And _rescue_ everyone… Should be easy."

"Sounds like," Dean replied stiffly, turning his eyes away from Chloe to Sam.

He laughed lightly. "I'm gonna need some help."

"Feel encouraged to take me…" Chloe offered. "The last thing I want to do is hang around here and listen to your idiot brother get himself shot!"

"No," Dean argued, shaking his head. "You're staying in the car. With a gun and a damn air horn, for all I care. You're not goin' anywhere near these damn things."

Rolling her eyes, she muttered under her breath and sat back in the seat with a huff.

"What about the sheriff," Dean offered Sam.

"Yeah, last time I checked the Sheriff, she was pretty _pro_ -zombie."

"Well, she'd get along great with Chloe here…" He sighed, lifting his brows and glancing at Sam. "You'll just have to convince her."

Incredulous, Sam asked, " _How?_ "

"I dunno, you're just _gonna_ …"

Sam blinked before glancing back at Chloe. "She was definitely right about the half-assed planning thing."

Dean pursed his lips, eyes narrowed. "Shuddup."

Rubbing her hands over her eyes, Chloe shook her head. "How do I get into these situations?" she muttered under her breath.

…

"You know how to use that thing?" Dean asked, as he looked from her to the glock in her lap.

"Of _course_ , who hasn't had zombie training these days?" she replied snarkily.

With a frown, he cocked a brow at her.

Sighing, she nodded. "Yes, I know what I'm doing."

"Anybody comes to the car… I don't care if they look perfectly _alive,_ you shoot; ask questions later, all right?"

She glared. "That include you?"

"Given this zombie thing doesn't kick in for a few days, try to hold back, huh?"

She snorted. "Does that mean if you _do_ get killed and turned, I get to be the one to _re_ -killyou?"

He smirked cockily. "You want the honor?"

Turning her eyes away, she frowned sadly into the darkness of the car. "This really isn't funny, you know…"

"Yeah," he sighed. "I know."

"If you get killed in there, I'll never forgive you."

He chuckled under his breath. "Something to think about then."

Rolling her eyes, she looked back at him. "Just stay safe."

He nodded. "Good luck kiss?" he asked cheekily.

A smile curled her lips. "Maybe one…"

Sliding along the seat, she left the gun behind her and lifted up until their tilted faces were just inches away. She could feel his hot breath across her mouth; almost hear her heart hammering at her ears in anticipation. His eyes darkened, from hazel green to forest, and she felt her breath leave her on a shiver. He caught her lips, firm and with a distinct feeling of _mine_ lingering with each smooth stroke of his mouth, his tongue reaching to lick the seam, urging her open for him. She did so on a gasp of pleasure, her toes curling in her shoes and her body willingly leaning forward, seeking the heat of his despite knowing he was outside the car while she was in. Her stomach flip-flopped, her breasts tightened, and the tiny hairs across her body rose in reaction. His hand dragged up her neck, squeezed, and then buried tightly in her hair, possessively kneading and drawing her even closer. She could happily drown in him right then and there, she knew. But then her foot kicked the gun he'd given her off the backseat and she was reminded of their current predicament. With a swift yank, she drew herself away from him more on concern than anything else. Her worry outweighed her want for him. Her body hummed, her lips ached, she still wanted more, all that he could give, but her head was still upset with what was going on and her chest was pained from the knowledge of where he was going, what he was about to do.

Panting, he opened lust-glazed eyes to stare at her. "Hell," he muttered.

"You keep yourself unshot and we can pick this up after," she managed, though her voice was deep and hoarse.

She noticed the way his hands tightened around the door, knuckles whitening, and even how his breath seemed to shiver at the promise. Jaw ticking, he managed to pull back. "Keep an eye out, all right?"

Licking her lips, she nodded.

Clearing his throat, he backed up and turned around, checking the chamber on his shotgun one last time to be sure he had bullets before he stalked off toward the house.

Leaning back in her seat, Chloe let out a shaky breath and dearly hoped for the best. Rubbing her chest, she glanced back at the house, trying to see his shadow anywhere. And for the first time in a very long time, she _prayed._

…

His heart was at war; part of it wanted to keep Chloe safe rather than leave her outside to defend herself, while the other half wanted to be sure that Bobby wasn't in danger, to do for him what he knew had to be done. He got into the house easily enough, even if he hadn't had a key, the locks were old and he'd had more than his fair share of lock picking expertise. Gun at the ready, he walked silently through the living room, but it was only seconds in that he heard the shot. "Bobby!" he yelled, his feet moving swiftly as he raced down the hallway. Heart hammering, he came around the corner with his heart in his throat. Only to find Karen Singer with a single shot to the head, her limp hand clasped in Bobby's lap. Eyes damp with tears, he turned his head to look morosely at Dean.

Despite knowing that Karen would have to die, knowing that Bobby would be beyond hurt at the outcome, he still felt utter remorse. He didn't know her well but he did know Bobby, and he knew how much he'd lovedKaren. To raise a gun on the two boys he helped raised, thought of as his own sons, to risk a whole town of people on the hope that these newly raised dead were the only good thing to come out of the bloodshed, it all meant something. Standing there, baring witness to Bobby's downfall, he wanted to cry himself.

He'd seen, been through, a lot in his lifetime. Dead dad, dead mom, dead and then resurrected brother, he'd battled everything from A to Z and after being raised from hell was now in a war against Lucifer, of all things. He'd known hope and defeat, felt the weight of the world on his shoulders and the truth behind the coming end. But to stand there and see a man he'd always looked up to, holding the hand of the woman he'd had to kill not once but twice, Dean thought there was a whole other level of despair he didn't know yet. And he thought he might just, if destiny had its way with him and the woman sitting in his Impala right then. Hell. All the pain he'd already been through and he was pretty sure she was going to top it all.

Minutes later, without a word shared, they were outside the house and next to the van, filling it with guns and ammo from inside the house in hopes of helping Sam with the coming zombie attack. He knew he'd have to get Chloe, but he didn't want to until absolutely necessary.

"You know, Bobby, if you want to sit this one out…" he suggested.

"Let's just get going," he said, shaking his head.

He gave a short nod, continued loading but then there was a rustle in the outlying piles of junk metal and he paused, picking up his sawed off before he looked around in suspicion. "Chloe?" he called out, but got no response. "Shit." Leaving Bobby with the rest of the guns, he ventured out into the yard, flashlight bouncing to and fro, searching. There were three possibilities here. The least likely was that a cat had wandered into the yard and was making a ruckus. Another was that Chloe had seen they were okay and was coming to meet them at the van, even though he'd told her not to get out of the car. And the third was that the zombies had come looking for dinner and they were the main entrée. Assuming the worst, he figured on the third, and that wouldn't have scared him if not for the fact that Chloe was still in the Impala and he hadn't heard one shot.

Hearing his name being called by Bobby and then a shot in the distance, Dean turned, struggling with whether to head back and help. Bobby could handle himself, wheelchair be damned, but Chloe was a whole other matter. He didn't get a chance to choose because he was soon tackled and pinned to the ground by some guy out for his fresh flesh fix. Hissing and snarling, the man leaned down as if to take a bite. Reacting, Dean threw an arm out, bashing the guy in the head and effectively throwing him off. Turning over on his knees, he crawled toward his lost gun. Another shot reverberated through the air and he cursed under his breath. Bang. Snap. Bang. _Chloe. Bobby. Chloe_. A hand grabbed at his foot, began dragging him back while he continued to wrestle toward his shotgun. Finally, with a growl, he turned over, reared his leg back and kicked it into the man's gun, knocking him back long enough for him to grab his gun and get a shot off. His zombie assailant now down for the count, he jumped up, shook off the pain that hung around his bones and started toward the Impala again.

 _Bang_. "Dean?" another shout from Bobby.

Good sign, he guessed, or hoped. At least Bobby was okay, but he hadn't heard a peep from Chloe and that wasn't working for him. Heart hammering, he ran through the piles of old, rusting cars, his chest aching painfully and his heart throbbing at his temples. Just as he ran into the opening where the Impala was, he found it empty. Cursing under his breath, he saw the door open and drag marks in the dirt. No blood though, he noticed. "Chloe?" he shouted, looking around worriedly, his chest clenching painfully. "Damn it. Chloe!" he yelled louder.

"Dean!"

Bobby.

 _Shit_.

Turning, he hurried toward the van once more, only to see Bobby thrown to the ground from behind, his arm outstretched for his lost gun.

Raising his gun, Dean got a shot off to the attacker's head and then looked down at a panting Bobby.

"Little help here?"

Reaching down, he hauled Bobby over onto his back and then up until he'd gotten him into his seat. Already he could hear feet scurrying and see shadows of more people coming. "You seen Chloe?" he asked him. "She wasn't at the car… I told her not to leave the damn car!"

"Haven't seen hide or hair of her," Bobby replied, frowning as lifted his gun up and cocked it.

Dean's chest ached painfully, his stomach rolling, while his eyes scanned to and fro. He had to go back out there; she could be stuck in the middle a zombie dinner somewhere. Spread out and unable to do anything while they chewed at her skin. He choked back the bile that stung his throat. "You're sure she—"

 _Bang_.

 _Thump_.

Dean whirled around to see a body hit the ground behind him, while Chloe stood with a smoking gun in her hand. "Gun jammed… Had to get a little creative but I handled myself just fine." Smiling reassuringly, she walked forward to join them in the middle of the fray.

Relief hung heavy on his shoulders, but soon it was replaced with concern. "You should get in the van," Dean told her, frowning.

Sighing, she rolled her eyes. "And miss out on all the fun?" Reaching past him, she took another shot, taking out somebody climbing over the cars. With a gargled scream of pain, they fell dead.

"Not bad," he said grudgingly.

"Flirt later, shoot now," Bobby told them impatiently.

"We're being surrounded," Chloe said, shaking her head. "We've gotta get outta here."

Nodding, Dean handed his gun to Chloe and reached for the handles on Bobby's wheelchair, pulling him back and turning him around before pushing him along toward the house while Chloe covered them. Minutes later, they crashed inside the house, slamming the door behind them.

"You got anymore ammo? I'm low," Dean half-shouted.

"Yeah, we got _plenty_ ," Bobby growled sarcastically, "Just run back past the _zombies_. It's in the _van_ where we left it."

"A simple 'no' woulda been fine."

"But not as amusing," Chloe piped up, checking her own bullet reserves.

"What are they all doin' _here_ , anyway?" Dean wondered, walking toward the nearest window.

"Think I get it…" Bobby muttered.

"What?"

A crash sounded from above, drawing their eyes.

"Well, that ain't good."

Chloe sighed. "You always take me to the nicest places," she drawled drolly, cocking a brow at Dean.

"I'll make it up to you later," he replied, cocking his gun. "For right now, aim for the dead guys and gimme a break."

As a body crashed in through the window, her attention was immediately drawn. Shots were flying everywhere and Dean was having trouble keeping up with the zombies and making sure both Bobby and Chloe were okay.

Trying to reload, Dean realized, "I'm out.

"Me too."

"Same boat," added Chloe.

"Come on," Dean called, reaching back to grab Chloe's hand and pull her along by his side while Bobby took up the front. As they entered the kitchen, a man broke through the window with a shout. Lifting his arms up, Bobby held a gun. Releasing Chloe and simultaneously shoving her behind him, Dean grabbed the gun and used the butt of it to the knock the zombie out of the way and onto the ground. Not quite dead, but at least not blocking their escape. Handing the gun back to him, he started pushing Bobby through toward the hallway, glancing back to keep an eye on Chloe and the advancing zombies. Seeing a door, he backed Bobby in through to the closet, shuffled Chloe in and then closed and locked the door before pulling the string to turn the light on.

"Kind of a tight fit, doncha think?" Bobby snapped smartly.

"It's all right," Dean said over the pounding of fists outside the door. "They're idiots. They can't pick a _lock!_ "

As if in reply to his jinx, the sound stopped, replaced with foreboding quiet and then the sound of something being moved around inside the lock.

Chloe rolled her eyes before snapping through clenched teeth, "Exactly what does it take to prove that these are _not_ the kind of zombies you see in movies?"

He frowned and then tried to shove her back behind musty old coats, covering her with his arm as if he thought that'd somehow keep the zombies from her.

"Don't you ever get tired of being _wrong?_ " Bobby snapped at him as they watched the handle jiggle.

"I'm makin' this stuff up as I go along!" Dean admitted, scowling. "Sue me!"

"Shouldn't there be a guide to this kind of mess?" Chloe wondered, elbowing jackets out of the way to glare up at Dean.

"Sure," he replied sarcastically, "Did I forget to break out the How To on taking out apocalyptic zombies? My bad!"

Before she could reply, the noise came to a deafening halt and Dean turned his attention back, arms raising with the butt of his gun at the ready. As soon as the door swung open, he slammed his gun into the first face he saw and kept at it, head shot after head shot. Finally, he heard, "Get down!" and saw Sam across the bobbing zombie heads coming at him. Rearing back and out of the way of the shots, Dean grabbed Chloe and hauled her behind the small wall, covering her with his body as he dragged her down to kneel with him. Arm wrapped around her upper body, his free hand covered the side of her head, keeping it safely pressed to his chest. Even if a bullet came through the wall it'd hit him before it could make its way into her.

While reaching fingers and hungry hands kept coming through the doorway, each person fell in a shower of blood until finally there was nobody clawing to get at them. Carefully, he looked around the corner to see the Sheriff and a panting Sam staring back at him. Standing, he pulled Chloe up with him, looking her over for any wounds. She stopped his wandering hands, stared up at him reassuringly and half-smiled.

"You okay?" Sam asked them.

Staring down at the carnage, they didn't reply. Given the situation, he guessed they were about as okay as they were going to get.

…

The next morning, Dean left Chloe with Sam while he went out with Sherriff Mills to round up any leftover zombies left in Sioux Falls. Standing next to a dejected Sam, Chloe watched as fire built up over the corpses of the many dead _undead_. "And this is going to stop them from ever going zombie again?"

Sam shrugged. "Dunno. Hope so… I mean, Bobby cremated Karen and somehow she still came back. But…" He sighed, looking over at her. "This is all we really know to do. Far as we can tell, they're dead… _Really_ dead this time."

Chewing her lip, she nodded. Hands tucked in the pockets of her jacket, she watched the flickering flames lick toward the sky. "Is it really always like this?" she wondered.

"What? You mean the depressing part of knowing you might have to kill somebody you know… or the _wife_ of somebody you know?" he asked, smiling humorlessly. "It happens, I guess. We never really know _who_ or _what_ we'll be fighting next. Sometimes it's the neighbor next door and other times it's something right out of a sci-fi book."

She frowned, drawing her eyes from the burning bodies and down toward the wet grass. "How do you deal with it?"

"We just… _do_." He shrugged, frowning. "I mean, we're not really good at it, most of the time… In fact, Dean's pretty much perfected _not caring_ , but… We keep going. Next job, next town… Whatever's gotta be done, I guess."

Turning, she looked up at him. "You wanted to be a lawyer though, didn't you?" She glanced back at the fire pointedly. "And now you're burning zombies…"

He smiled darkly. "Yeah… Guess destiny had different ideas." He cocked a brow. "Monster's a monster no matter what he plans."

Brows furrowed, she shook her head. "You're not a monster, Sam."

"No?" He wrinkled his nose. "Neither was Karen… Or the Sheriff's son… I bet Old Lady Jones was a real sweet grandma before she turned."

She scoffed. "You're comparing yourself to _zombies_? _Really?_ "

He swallowed tightly. "You don't know everything there is to know about this, Chloe… We told you what we had to, but there are things we've done, things _I've_ done that can't be forgiven."

"I think you're wrong." Shaking her head, she frowned. "I think sometimes, in a job like this, things have to be done that we just don't think are right. We do or we say things or we _are_ things that don't seem right. But there's not always a right answer, you know? Sometimes we do the wrong things for the right reasons… And sometimes the bad guy is really the good guy, whether he knows it or not."

Jaw ticking, Sam didn't say anything, instead turning his eyes back to the fire in contemplation.

Moments later, a couple cars pulled up and the Sheriff and Dean met up with them. "Well, if there's any zombies left out there, we can't find 'em," Dean said in greeting.

Turning around, Sam sighed. "How're the townspeople?"

The Sheriff's brows rose high on her forehead. "Pretty freaked out. Hell, _traumatized_. Few of 'em are calling the papers." She shook her head. "As far as I can tell, nobody's believed them yet."

Sam's brow furrowed in understanding. "Would you?"

She shook her head, sadness dominating her face.

"How're you holding up?"

Eyes glistening, she opened her mouth to say something but had no words.

What did one say when their son had to be killed? When their son had literally _eaten_ his father?

Chloe swallowed tightly, looking to Dean and then Sam. How did they deal with this all these years? Seeing such pain and anguish and never having the right words to make it all right?

"Is that everyone?" Dean asked, staring at the fire.

Sam turned to look back. "All but one."

 _Karen Singer_ went unsaid.

…

After saying goodbye to the Sheriff and passing on their condolences, Sam, Chloe and Dean left for the Impala to take the short and quiet drive to Bobby's house. Chewing her lip, she followed the boys to where Bobby sat, staring at his own funeral fire, where his wife lay ablaze. Both instinct and a need to touch him had Chloe reaching for Dean's hand, their fingers twining. The squeeze he gave back told her he needed it just as much as her.

Standing at Dean's side while he took up the right of Bobby and Sam took up the left, they stood in silent respect.

"So… I'm thinkin' maybe I should probably apologize for losin' my head back there," Bobby said, breaking the silence.

"Bobby…" Sam sighed, shaking his head. "You don't owe us anything."

"Hey, look," Dead added, "I'm not the guy to talk to about love but…" He licked his lips, "At least you got to spend five days with her… Right?"

On a broken breath, Bobby managed, "Right… which makes things…" He shook his head sorrowfully, "About a _thousand times_ worse." Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. "She was the love of my life…"

Sam's brow furrowed as he turned his eyes away sadly.

"How many times do I gotta kill her?"

At the dark truth of those words, Dean's brow knotted and he turned to look at the woman next to him. Feeling his stare, she looked up at him, searching his eyes for answers. Instead of saying anything, he simply squeezed her hand once more and tugged her a little closer. Leaning into his side, she tucked her head against his shoulder and Dean felt a sense of dread fill him. He wondered if he'd ever have this feeling of déjà vu someday soon… If maybe it'd be him in Bobby's place. The thought scared him more than he cared to admit and he closed his eyes as his chest ached with it.

Licking his lips, Sam had to ask, "You gonna be okay, Bobby?"

Staring bleakly at the fire, he shook his head and Sam turned concerned eyes toward Dean, who gave a short nod to say he saw the same defeat in their old friend.

"You boys should know," Bobby said on an emotion filled inhale, "Karen told me why Death was here."

Staring down at him, Sam's brows furrowed. "What d'you mean?"

"I _know_ why he took a stroll through the cemetery in the sticks of South Dakota…" he replied bitterly. On an angry breath, he added, "He came for _me_."

Dean cocked his head down, staring at him wonderingly. "Whaddya mean _you?_ "

"Death came for _me_. He brought Karen back to send me a message."

"Y-You? Why you?"

"'Cause I've been helpin' _you_ , you sons-a-bitches," he growled back. "I'm one 'o the reasons you're still saying no to Lucifer, Sam."

Dean turned his head away and then snarled, "So this was like a hit on your _life?_ "

"I don't know if they wanted to take my life or…" He sighed, "my spirit. Either way they wanted me outta the way."

Sam nodded stubbornly. "But you're gonna be all right." He paused. "Right… Bobby?"

Morosely, Bobby raised his eyes to meet Sam's, who took a deep breath of knowing.

There was silence a long moment before Bobby said, "All I know is… They aren't just gunnin' for you two anymore…" Turning, he looked over to Chloe tucked into Dean's side. "Anybody you know, anybody you care about… We're all bigger targets than ever before…" Jaw clenching, he shook his head. "And they know just how to get to the heart of it… Hit you where it hurts worst."

Swallowing tightly, Dean stared out at the fire, his arm wrapping around Chloe's body tightly, protectively. Even though deep down he knew…

If they came for her, he may not be able to save her.


	12. Chapter Eleven

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XI**.

Chloe was starting to get déjà vu with each motel they rented. Ugly wallpaper, worn floors, flowery blankets that often felt itchy. The boys had been quiet since leaving Bobby's. Knowing what had happened, that they were part of the reason Bobby had had to kill his wife _again_ , was weighing on them. There was no Metallica to break the silence, no arguing between Dean and Sam as the two brothers were oft to do. It was just painfully, noticeably silent. When they pulled into the parking space in front of their newly acquired room, Sam said he needed some air. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he went for a walk to brood and think. Helping Dean with the bags, Chloe tossed Sam's by his bed and then placed her own on the left side of her and Dean's bed, since he always took the side blocking her from the door.

Safe. Protected. Two things Dean Winchester always supplied.

Running a hand through his hair, he left to take a shower. Sitting at the edge of the bed, Chloe surfed through the few channels offered, finding nothing of interest to watch. When Dean stepped out wearing his pajama pants and wiping down his chest with a towel, she chewed her lip and stood. He didn't look at her when she walked past him to use the shower herself. She felt grimy, like the issues they'd faced were clinging to her skin. Death. Loss. _Love_. She imagined no fairytale was quite as twisted as this. Usually, when destiny found the princess and offered up the prince, things had a way of fixing themselves. Then again, there were magical animals out to save the day in the old stories and while charming, she didn't imagine Dean was a _prince_ by any stretch of the imagination. So destiny had given her a jaded, bitter, sad and hurt soul mate. Fate had decided that somehow, some way, she would help him in this fight of his, one she hadn't even known was happening until a week ago.

She spread his body wash all over instead of her own; sometimes just having his scent on her skin provided a comfort she never imagined. She rinsed and repeated through her hair at least three times, felt the heat of the water sting her skin and knew she was no doubt bright and raw red. Some part of her wanted to forget the last couple days, while another part insisted that it had at least given her insight to Dean, to what he had to deal with. For too long he'd kept her locked away in the motel room, never letting her see first hand the darkness he had to fight, day in and day out. Well, no more. Much as she couldn't say she _liked_ his job, she was part of it now.

After brushing her teeth and towel-drying her hair, she dragged on a pair of loose pajama shorts and a tank top. She was tired, _exhausted_ , and a nap sounded really good. Folding her used clothes up, she brought them out with her. They'd need to stop at a Laundromat soon; she was running out of clean things to wear. Pride or not, she'd bust out her Visa and have everything sent off for dry cleaning if they didn't give in and get their clothes washed. When she stepped back into the room, Dean was spread across the bed on his stomach, face turned away from her to stare out the window. She knew he wasn't asleep; his body was still too tense for that. Dropping her clothes near her bag, she flicked the light off in the bathroom and then crossed the floor silently, crawling on top of the bed, her knees biting into the mattress.

Like so often, he was hurting. Guilt, remorse, a mix of the two.

She didn't know what to say in a situation like this; what words could possibly make this any better?

So instead, she did what she knew would give some comfort. She laid herself out on top of him, her chest pressed to his bare back, head nestled comfortably between his shoulder blades. Hands stretched along his sides, she stroked up and down, slow but firm, until she felt his upper body relax. And then she hooked her hands around his biceps, fingers soothingly drawing circles all around. She kissed the base of his neck just once, nuzzled it with her nose and then sighed, relaxing against the heat of him that hummed all along the front of her body. He didn't speak, didn't move, instead he slowly drifted into sleep. The tension of his body faded, his eyes fell closed and his breathing grew even. Half-smiling, she followed, listening only to the faint thump of their in-tune hearts.

…

When Dean woke, night was already in play. Sam was sleeping in the bed across from him and the weight on his back said Chloe was still there and safe. Looking over his shoulder, he caught sight of her peaceful face and his brows furrowed when his heart thumped in his chest noticeably. Reaching an arm behind him, he held her carefully as he rolled her down to lay next to him. She muttered something nonsensical in her sleep and then sidled in close to bury her face in his chest. He chuckled lightly, shook his head and then unsuccessfully stifled the urge to stroke her hair.

She was so tiny, pixie-like, and yet somehow she fit just right against his much larger, even lumbering body. Somehow, without trying, she'd fallen in tune with him in a way he'd never thought any person, especially a woman, could. She could read his emotions better than he could, knew when to talk and when not to, how to reach out and just be there. He wasn't accustomed to it, wasn't even sure he liked it sometimes. That there was someone who could understand him, that she was there and he had no control over it… And yet he didn't want to send her away, even if he could. Maybe if it meant keeping her safe, if he knew turning her away would mean she'd live a good life, unscathed by the war. But he knew there was little chance of that and maybe it was selfish, but he wanted to keep her around, knowing that _he_ was the one keeping an eye on her. She'd certainly proven she wasn't exactly the damsel in distress, but she still wasn't used to dealing with the kind of shit he was, the kind of evil that was coming out of the woodworks more and more each day.

Wrinkling her nose, Chloe blew out a sigh. "You think loudly," she murmured tiredly.

He half-smiled. "Yesterday you were saying I don't think things through enough… Make up your mind, woman."

Chuckling lightly, she rolled onto her back, stretching her arms above her head and arching her back as she gave a long moan of appreciation for her nap. He swallowed tightly, his eyes dilating as they took in her long, lithe body… The peek of skin shown as her shirt slipped up her waist. He licked his lips, feeling a heat tremble inside him that was all consuming. He shook his head, wanting to clear it of the sudden desire to _taste_ her. Her mouth, her skin, the heat that lay burning between her thighs for him.

Opening her eyes, she stared up at him. "I'm having a Twilight-esque moment, where I'm the lamb and you're the hungry lion…"

He cocked a brow. "Twi- _what?_ "

She snorted. "We have to update you on the finer things going on in the regular world, Dean."

Smirking lazily, he cocked his head, holding it up with his hand. "There's only one fine thing I'd like you to introduce me to, sweetheart."

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "Cheesy."

"Hey," he said, grinning, "That stuff works."

"On barmaids and lonely waitresses, _maybe_ ," she argued, sitting up in bed.

Reaching out, he wrapped an arm around her waist, dragging her back down next to him.

Groaning, she looked up at him with pursed lips. "Let's get a few things straight, okay?" She stared at him searchingly. "I _want_ you, that's very obvious."

He smirked, ego getting a big boost.

"But we've not only got a lot on our plates right now, but your brother is less than fifteen feet away… and that's _really_ not hot."

"He's a sound sleeper," Dean argued, even as he sighed knowingly.

"Yeah, I'm sure… He'd have to be with _you_ around." Sitting up once more, she rolled her shoulders and then leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her lap. "You wanna talk about what happened?"

He frowned, staring up at the ceiling. "Which part?"

She paused, thought it over, and he reached for her, sliding his hand up beneath her shirt to lightly run his palm up and down her back. He smirked as she shivered, lips widening still when she didn't tell him to stop or move out of his reach. Her skin was warm, soft, and his thumb rose along the line of her spine before he dragged his hand back down to the small of her back once more. She was tickling along the back of her ribs; he purposefully smoothed his knuckles there just to see her shiver, to hear the hitch in her breath.

" _Dean_ …"

"Yeah?" he growled, hoarse himself.

She looked back at him over her shoulder, her expression thoughtful, almost pained. "I want to help you, in any way I can… But I don't want to get hurt in the process." She frowned, eyes falling, "And I don't mean physically, 'cause that's probably a given, but…" Chewing her lip, she swallowed thickly. "Just promise me you won't hurt me… _Please?_ "

He felt her words deep in his chest, an ache that almost made him wince. Tugging on her top, he asked her silently to join him once more. Rolling over, she laid down next to him, her head tucked beneath his chin. In a week, he'd only ever really seen tough, sarcastic and thoughtful Chloe, and now he was seeing the part of her that had been hurt, the part of her that was scared this was going to blow up in her face. And he couldn't lie to her, tell her it was all going to be okay. In his experience, it usually ended up bad and bloody. But if he had a say in it, if he could make the decision on whether or not he was another one of those scars she carried around… "I promise."

She sighed, held him tighter, and he dearly hoped he wasn't wrong.

…

They wound up at a diner that was all too familiar. Greasy food, bad service, cutlery that probably could've been washed another time or two. They'd let Sam sleep, he was tired. If he got hungry later, if he even woke up before morning, Dean made sure to get directions for the closest all-night diner and would leave the keys out for Sam to use. Neither of them asked about the pie offered, instead they ordered whatever was least likely to bring up memories or turn their stomachs. Sitting across from one another, their feet tucked close to each others, they stared out the dark window of the diner in thought.

Chloe had hardly touched her coffee and this time it wasn't just because it tasted like rotten tar. No, instead she couldn't help thinking of Karen Singer.

"Guess we all got our stories, huh?" Dean said, breaking the quiet. He smiled humorlessly, eyes falling to the tabletop. "Demon takes over Bobby's wife and he's gotta kill her… So he turns into a hunter. My mom's _burned_ alive on the ceiling of Sam's nursery," he said, eyes wide with dark emphasis, "so dad takes up the mantle… Sammy quits the life only to come racing back when Jess suffers a repeat of mom…" He snorted, shook his head bitterly.

"And you?" Chloe asked, lifting a brow.

"Just a product of my childhood, I guess," he muttered, shrugging.

"The others did it for revenge, mostly…" She stared at him. "You sure you didn't take up hunting because of your mom?"

"Maybe." He pursed his lips. "Maybe it was part of it." Shaking his head, he shrugged. "And maybe I knew I wouldn't make it anywhere else."

Her brows furrowed. "For such a confident guy, you've got some low self-esteem…"

He half-smiled. "Maybe I'm more realist than anybody thought."

Perching her chin on her upturned hand, she frowned. "No… I think if you really wanted to, if you were _meant_ to live that life… you could."

"So, what?" His brows cinched. "I was meant for this shitty existence?"

"They say destiny just happens, don't they? That our choices have already been made and so whatever we do, we eventually wind up exactly where we were meant to be…" Lifting her shoulders, she stared at him searchingly. "So maybe you were always supposed to be a hunter, maybe you were the only one who could truly handle what you have… Maybe the angels or demons or whatever don't have it all wrong…"

"Last I checked, I was still pro-free will," he reminded, eyes narrowing.

She smiled slowly. "And maybe that was destined, too. Maybe there are two paths with the same end." She lifted a brow. "Maybe you say yes to Michael and you win the war, everybody still left alive cheers…" She twirled her finger in the air in fake enthusiasm. "And maybe you don't… Maybe you tell Michael to go screw himself… And you _still_ win the war. Hopefully with less casualties."

"So where does destiny come in?"

"After the choice is made…" she said simply. "Destiny is that you win the war, that you defeat Lucifer, not _how_ you do it."

Brow furrowed, he nodded slowly. "And you? What do you think destiny has planned for you?"

Grinning thoughtfully, she lifted her coffee. "I don't know… I don't think I've had to make a choice yet."

"Hm," he grunted, turning his gaze down to his plate, using his fork to cut through his sunny-side up eggs. "How d'you know you're making the right one?" he asked, cocking a brow. "The right choice."

She licked her lips of coffee. "You'll just _know_. In the moment. Everybody knows when they're right or they're wrong. It's whether they decide to do it that matters."

He stared at her, deep hazel eyes boring into hers intensely.

"You're a bit of a geek, I think," he said with a half-grin.

She laughed. "I've been called worse."

Chuckling, he shrugged. "Maybe I'm gettin' soft."

"I have that effect on men," she assured with a faux-regal wave of her hand.

"Yeah, I bet," he replied, though he was much more serious than her.

They stared at each other a long moment, contemplating, before Dean said, "Well… We should probably get outta here… Sammy wakes up, he's gonna be in a pissy mood."

Nodding, she downed the last of her coffee and then stood from her chair, dragging her jacket on. "You think we should bring him something? They had a cob salad that didn't look too bad."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "What is it with you and him eatin' girly food?"

"Could be that I'm a girl," she replied, rolling her eyes, "Or that we care about our health."

"Pfft." Leaving a few bill on the table, his hand slid to the small of her back as they left the diner for the car outside. "Why not just eat good and burn off the calories in a _fun_ way?"

Snickering, she shook her head. "Does your upstairs brain just shut _off_ when you're not on a hunt?"

He grinned, opening the passenger door for her. When she'd taken her seat and he closed the door, he leaned down to talk to her through the window. "Off a hunt, all that pent up sexual appetite tends to want out… On the bright side, you're the only one it's reserved for." With a wink, he stood to walk around the car and Chloe felt a warm flush spread along her skin. She couldn't disagree with him after the night they'd shared together; if that was what was pent up, she wasn't sure she ever wanted it _leashed_.

…

After getting home some time after midnight, they were still too wired to sleep. So lying side by side, they talked in quiet whispers, careful not to wake Sam across from them. It was some time around four am when they finally fell back to sleep. The room was entirely too warm for comfort, however, and so the blanket was kicked to the floor and Chloe shed her shorts in favor of just her panties and loose tank top. Wiping a hand down his mouth roughly, Dean turned his eyes to the ceiling and cursed under his breath. How did she not realize she was _torturing_ him? Turning a scowl on his sleeping brother, he blamed Sammy for the reason he couldn't get Chloe good and naked. Lying on his stomach, his arm outstretched to drag her in close, Dean fell into a fitful sleep, wishing he'd had a few beers handy to help take the edge off.

Morning came all too soon, and with it a couple of visitors Dean wished he'd never met.

He felt a presence that sent a sting of awareness down his spine and not the good kind he usually got from waking to find Chloe snuggled up against him. Feigning casual, his hand spread out in search of the gun safely tucked beneath his pillow, only to come up empty. His eyes opened in knowing irritation.

"Lookin' for this," a man's voice asked, holding a shotgun aimed for Dean's head.

Lips pursed, Dean raised his gaze to see a ski-masked assailant. Unloading the magazine from his favorite silver gun, the man dropped it to the floor, useless.

Brows knit, Dean lifted up on his elbows, looked over his shoulder to check on Sam, noting a second masked guy holding a gun to his very awake brother, and rolled onto his back, his arm spreading out along the still sleeping form of Chloe next to him. With a casual, "Morning," tossed in Sam's direction, he sighed.

"Shut up!" the first man shouted hastily, fidgeting with his gun slightly. "Hands where I can see 'em."

Dean lazily held his palms a few inches up and then cocked his head to one side, his brows furrowing. "Wait a minute…" Sitting up slowly, he asked, "Is that you, Roy?" Feeling the shift of Chloe's knee next to him as she began to wake, he squeezed her calf to still her and then caught the first man's purposeful silence. Eyes wide with realization, Dean nodded. "It is you, isn't it?" Turning with a chuckle, he looked to the other guy. "Which makes you Walt… Hiya Walt!"

With a sigh, the second man said, "Don't matter," and then shoved his mask up onto his head. Following suit, Roy did the same, revealing the darkly bearded guy beneath.

"Well, is it just me or do you two seem a tad upset?" Dean asked sarcastically,

"You think you can flick the switch on the apocalypse…" Walt shook his head, lips pursed, "Just walk away, Sam?

Head turned to one side, eyes wide with understanding, Sam replied softly, "Who told you that?"

"We ain't the only hunters after you." He cocked the gun darkly. "See ya in the next life."

Wide-eyed, Sam exclaimed, "Hear me out. I can explain! Okay?" He took a deep breath. "Please!"

Brows heavy over his eyes, Dean stared darkly at Walt, waiting.

Roy glanced at Walt, wondered if he might.

_Snap-Bang!_

Blood spattered as the shotgun shards mauled Sam's chest and threw him back on the bed.

Chloe cried out from beneath the sheet.

Jumping, Dean, scrambled over her toward Sam.

"Stay the hell down!" Roy ordered him.

Breath coming in short heaves, Dean stared at Sam's still body.

"Shoot him," Walt told Roy.

"Killin' Sam was right," he said, frowning, "But Dean…"

"He made us and we just snuffed his brother, ya idiot!"

Roy struggled, sighing. "What about the girl?"

Dean forced his rage-filled eyes away, glanced at a tearful Chloe, now sitting up and covering her mouth with a shaking hand as she stared at Sam, and then he turned back to Roy and Walt. "She's not part of this…" he growled hoarsely. "She doesn't know anything about it…"

"And we're s'pose to believe you?"

His jaw clenched. "She'll leave… Didn't see a thing… Doesn't even know who the hell you two are…"

They looked over at her and she cringed, swallowing tightly.

"Get outta here," Dean ordered, staring at her darkly.

Pressed up against the headboard of the bed, she didn't move. "Dean, I—"

" _Karen_ ," he interrupted meaningfully. "Just leave."

She stared searchingly at him, chewing her lip. He seriously hoped she was getting the message. _Leave. Go to Bobby_.

Her mouth trembled, eyes damp with tears as she shook her head ever-so-slightly.

"Get out!" he shouted, wincing as she flinched.

"She stays," Walt decided, cocking his gun again. He looked to Roy, "You wanna spend the rest of your life knowing _Dean Winchester's_ on your ass, 'cause I don't."

This morning was getting worse by the second. Dean could feel a well of emotion, of dark, all consuming _rage_ filling him, _shaking_ him. First Sam, then him, and then… then _Chloe_. He swallowed tightly. He'd tear these motherfuckers to pieces, if he ever got the chance.

"Shoot him," Walt said again.

Snarling, Dean turned, using his own body to cover Chloe's. "Go on, Roy, do it," he egged, eyes staring lethally. "But I warn you, when I come back… I'm gonna be _pissed_ …"

" _Dean,_ " Chloe whispered angrily.

" _Come on!_ " he shouted, watching in satisfaction as Roy jumped. "Let's get this show on the road!"

"Even if _you_ do…" Walt cocked a brow at Chloe. "Will _she?_ "

Dean swallowed tightly, jaw ticking.

"Hit a nerve, Dean?"

"Quit bein' a pansy, Roy…" Dean growled. "Do it… Can't get much easier than this."

"Come on already," Walt sighed.

Dean turned to look at him, and with a _snap-boom!_ he took it straight to the chest.

"No!"

He flew back, landing heavy on the mattress, and felt her hands on him, light, far away even, cupping his face, smoothing along his cheeks.

"Dean? Dean, look at me… Open your eyes…"

He stared up at her, at the tears in her green eyes and winced.

Hell.

He promised he wouldn't hurt her.

Damn it.

She shook her head, her fingers shaking as they stroked his temple.

He managed a half-grin and with that, he _died_.

 _"DEAN!_ "


	13. Chapter Twelve

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XII**.

_Mama, put my guns in the ground… I can't shoot them anymore… That long, black cloud is coming down… I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door…_

Bob Dylan?

Dean startled as if waking from a dream, only to find himself sitting inside his Impala in the middle of dark nowhere. Climbing out of his car, he looked around, his brows knotted in confusion. Where the _hell_ …?

There was a bang behind him and he whirled.

A very _young_ Sam was staring up at him, arms full of… Was that _fireworks?_

"Sammy?"

"Come on," Sam laughed, "Let's go!"

Taking off on a jog, Sam left with his milk crate of fireworks.

"Weird dream," Dean muttered to himself, but followed.

"Got your lighter?" little Sam asked, kneeling next to the crate before pulling out two handheld fireworks and walking toward him across the wet ground.

As if he knew where exactly to look, Dean dug into his pocket and produced just what Sam had wanted. "Whoa," he said, chuckling, "I haven't seen this in _years_ …"

"Fire 'em up!"

Dean felt a wave of childlike awe as red light burst from their hands to shimmy up into the sky and explode, whistling as they went. "I remember this!" His brow furrowed. "This was Fourth of July, 1996!" Eyes wrinkling at the corners, he glanced at Sammy.

"Dad would _never_ let us doing anything like this!" He half-smiled. "Thanks, Dean. This is great!"

Face falling, his eyes widened suddenly when Sam threw his arms around his waist and hugged him. Awkwardly, he tried to return the affection, patting his little brother on the back. Brows lifted, he only nodded when Sam looked up, expectant, hopeful, and watched as he hurried over to light a few more, crying "Fire in the hole!" before returning to Dean's side.

Brilliantly, the sky lit up with pink, green, gold and white, an impressive display of serious fireworks. Dean stared up with a huge grin and watched happily as Sam ran under the mist of falling light, arms raised in praise. And then there was a burst, not of fireworks but of shotguns, and a flash of faces. Of Sam, of him, of Roy and Walt and… and Chloe… So scared, left behind, alone, looking down at him, crying his name. But he was still in the field, whatever that was forgotten, surrounded by dark woods and no fireworks, no Sam.

"Sam?" he called out, he searched but couldn't see him.

Finally, he just walked back to his car, not sure what the hell was happening. Arms resting on the roof of the Impala, his eyes still looked around, wondering.

"Dean!" a crackled voice came from inside the car, seemingly from the staticy radio.

Eyes wide, he knelt down, staring into the car in confusion and asked, "Cas?"

"Yeah, it's me," the angel's voice replied through the radio once more.

Cocking his head, he climbed inside the Impala and stared dubiously at the radio. "You gotta stop pokin' around in my dreams…" He half-smiled. "I need some _me_ time."

"Listen to me, very closely," Castiel ordered. "This _isn't_ a dream."

Dean's face cleared of any humor. "Then what is it?"

"Deep down you already know."

He shook his head but then his eyes were moving to and fro and the memories surfaced once more. One shot, _two_ , Sam was dead. _Bang, bang_ , him too. And Chloe… Damn it, _Chloe!_ She never left, she was still there, she was… she was crying and asking, _begging_ him to open his eyes.

"I'm dead," he whispered.

"Condolences," Cas replied.

"What about Chloe?" He swallowed tightly. "Cas?" he asked when he didn't get an immediate reply. "Cas, damn it! What happened to her? She was there. She was right there. I- I—" He looked around, eyes wide. "Where am I?"

"Heaven."

" _Heaven?_ " Brows lifted, he looked through his windshield at the surrounding area. "How did I get to heaven?"

"Please, _listen_ , this… spell, this _connection_ , it's difficult to maintain."

"Wait, if- if I'm in heaven… Then where is Sam?"

"What do you _see?_ "

"What do you mean, what do I see?" he grumbled, irritably.

"Some people see a boat or a river, what do _you_ see?"

"Nothing. M-My dash, I'm in my car, I'm on a _road!_ "

"All right, a road, for you it's a road. Follow it, Dean. You'll _find,_ Sam. Follow the—" The radio began gargling, his voice fading.

"Wait, Cas! What about Chloe? Where is--? Is she _okay?_ I…" The orange light of the radio fizzled out and so Cas was lost. Slamming his hands down on the steering wheel, Dean cursed. "Sonofa…" Looking around, he sighed. "Follow the road…" Shaking his head, he reached for the ignition. "What am I, Dorothy?" Sighing, he pushed his foot down on the peddle. "Toto better damn well be where I'm goin'…"

Driving along the one way highway, he passed the shadows of dark gnarled tress, the moon full and eerie in the sky, surrounded by grey lit clouds. He slowed only when he found a house on the side of the road, lit up, _waiting_.

Climbing out of the Impala, he made his way inside, letting himself in through the front door and taking in the tacky flower wallpaper before he stepped into the dining room, that was lit up and filled with people, all of whom he didn't recognize, except _one_. The tall, goofy looking guy who was so out of his element, being felt up by some twelve year old while trying to talk to her dad.

"Wow…" he muttered, "Just _wow_."

"Dean?" Sam replied hopefully, looking up at him in surprise. "What are you doing in my _dream?_ "

Brows lying heavy over his eyes, he let out a sigh and cocked his head as if to say, "Come on…" before he turned and left the room.

Sam followed and moments later, after Dean explained where they _really_ were, they stared back at the creepy Brady Bunch that continued talking as if he was still there, despite that he wasn't and there was no reply to questions being asked.

"Heaven," Sam repeated, turning to stare at Dean incredulously.

Brows lifted, Dean turned back to him. "Yeah."

"Okay, how are _we_ in heaven?" He lifted his hand for emphasis, motioning between them.

He shook his head. "All that clean livin', I guess."

"No, no, okay…" Sam moved in front of him, blocking out the Cleavers and turned, shrugged. "You, I get, sure…" He shrugged off. "But me?" He pointed back at himself.

Dean's brows furrowed, head cocked to one side, questioning.

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but, um," Sam paused, uncomfortable, "I-I've _done_ … a few things."

Rolling his eyes, Dean half-smirked. "You thought you were doing the _right thing_ ," he reminded.

"Last I checked, it wasn't the road to _heaven_ that was paved with good intentions."

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, well, if this is the Sky Mall, it sucks. I mean, where's Chloe or the cloud beds, y'know?" He sighed. "Come on, a guy has needs!"

"Oh my god, _Chloe_. I forgot…" Sam's eyes widened. "I-I-Is she here? Or did she get away? What?"

Face clouding angrily, he shook his head. "I dunno… Gave her a chance to run and she got all self-righteous, stuck around 'til the last shot…" Scowling, he turned his eyes away. "Last I saw her, she was alive… Still stuck in the room with the soon-to-be Dean and Deader, but…"

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She's smart… She… I mean, maybe she'll get out of it, right?" He half-smiled, hopefully. "Hey, if she's not here yet, then…"

"Yeah… Right…" Dean snorted. "Or hell called dibs as payback."

"Dean…"

Waving him off, Dean shrugged, turned and walked to a window to brood.

Sighing, Sam turned around, stared at the group of people in the dining room and felt a spark of inspiration. "You know, when you bite dust they say your life flashes before your eyes."

Turning back to him, he shook his head slightly. "Your point?"

Sam lifted his hand for emphasis, "This _house_ , it's one of my _memories._ "

Mouth falling open, Dean realized, "When I woke up, I woke up in one of _my_ memories."

His eyes widened.

"The Fourth of July that we burned down that field," he clarified, brows lifted.

Sam laughed shortly. "Well, maybe that's what heaven _is_. A-A place where you relive your greatest hits."

"Wait, so…" Dean looked confused, "Playing footsie with Braceface in there, that's a trophy moment for you?"

Grinning, Sam shook his head. "Dean, I was eleven years old! This was my first real Thanksgiving."

"What're ya talkin' about? We had Thanksgivin' every year," Dean muttered, brows knotted.

Nodding, Sam sighed, "We had a bucket of extra crispy and dad passed out on the couch."

Unable to argue his point, Dean rather bobbed his head agreeably.

A rumble around them drew their attention then. The house creaked, the lights went out, and all around things rattled as if a small scale earthquake was happening. What looked to be a search light spilled through the window and across the room, moving like a snake, filling shadows, an eye seeking its prey.

"We should, uh…"

"Yeah…"

Ducking behind a couch and pressed up against a wall, they each avoided the light, waiting as it passed by and the room returned to normal, lights flickering back on and everything.

Standing, they glanced at each other and then out the windows.

"O-Okay, what the hell was that?"

Spotting a stereo across the room, Dean hurried over, kneeling in front of it. "I dunno, but we are takin' the escalator back downstairs." Slapping the speaker of the stereo, he shouted, "Cas!"

Brows furrowed, Sam asked, "Wh-What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" He frowned, staring, waiting for Castiel to reply.

"Like you've lost your mind."

Rolling his eyes, Dean looked up at him. "Cas talked to me before using this phone-home radio thing, so I…" Unable to explain, he looked back, "Cas!"

"I can hear you," Castiel's voice replied, only it wasn't coming from the stereo.

Turning, they spotted him on the TV screen, though it was rolling in and out of focus.

"Cas, hey!" he greeted, hurrying over. "So I found Sam, but uh, something just happened… There was this weird beam of light—"

"Don't go into the light."

Dean blinked. "Okay… thanks… _Carol Anne_ ," he replied sarcastically. "What was it?"

"Not what, _whom_. Zachariah." Only his mouth was shown on the screen now. "He's searching for you.

Sam stared, brows lifted high. "An-And if he finds us?"

"You can't say _yes_ to Michael and Lucifer if you're _dead_ , so Zachariah needs to return you to your bodies."

"Great," Sam said, happily, "Problem solved!"

"No, you don't understand," Cas said hurriedly, stumbling for the right words. "You're _behind_ the wall. This is a _rare_ opportunity."

"For _what?_ " Dean growled, unconvinced.

"You have to find an _angel_. His name is Joshua. "

"Hey man, no offence, but we're kinda _ass full_ of angels, okay? You find him!" Crossing his arms over his chest, Dean shook his head. "I wanna get back to where things make their own backward sense and I wanna know that _Chloe_ isn't being served up on a platter in _hell_ somewhere."

"I _can't_." He stared at them darkly. "I can't _return_ to heaven."

They stared, not quite sure what to say.

"So… What's so important about Joshua?" Sam wondered.

"The rumor is… he _talks_ to God."

"And?" Dean cocked his brows. "So?"

"You think maybe, just _maybe_ , we should find out _what the hell_ God is saying!" Cas snapped back.

Mouth agape, Dean shook his head. "Geez, touchy."

"Please, I just need you to _follow_ the road," Cas told them.

"What road?" Sam asked, forehead wrinkling.

"It's called the Axis Mundi; it's a pass that runs through heaven. Different people see it as different things. For you, it's two-lane asphalt. The road will lead you to The Garden, you will find Joshua there."

Dean pursed his lips.

"And Joshua… can take us to God."

"What about Chloe?" Dean asked, stepping forward. "We do this Joshua pick-up thing, I at least gotta know she's all right.

"She's…" His gaze slipped to the side. "Being taken care of."

"What the hell's _that_ s'pose to mean?"

"The G-Garden." Cas' voice began to strain. "Please. H-Hurry."

"Cas? Damn it, Cas!"

The TV went blank.

With a heavy sigh, Sam turned to him. "So? What d'you think?"

Jaw clenched, he shook his head. "I think we hit the yellow bricks, find this Joshua cat and get our asses outta here… The sooner the better."

"Really?" he replied, brows furrowed in surprise.

"What? You _don't?_ "

"No. Uh-Ah-I'm just surprised _you do_. I mean, last I checked, you wanted to break God's nose, now you think he can _help?_ "

"He's the only one who _can_ ," Dean replied stiffly. "I mean, come on, Sam. We are _royally_ boned."

"Well, what about Chloe? About what Cas said?"

"What? Her _heart?_ " Dean shook his head. "No offense to her or Cas, but I still don't see how her heartis gonna change this war in our direction." Swallowing tightly, he shook his head. "Besides, Cas isn't exactly _sharing_ with us. She might just be gone and he doesn't want it to distract us…" Wincing, he looked away. "So prayer… Last hope of a desperate man!"

Sam nodded slowly. "You know, she might not be… She could be fine…"

Dean's jaw ticked and without a word, he walked past him and toward the doorway. "Let's go… To the Garden or whatever."

Sighing, Sam followed him out.

However, as they stepped through the creaky porch door, they were met with a wall of forest.

"Wasn't there a street out here?"

Dean frowned. "There was." Walking back inside, his eyes scanned the area before he reached out and started opening random doors.

"Dean? What are you doing?"

"Lookin' for a road," he said simply, reaching for another door handle.

"You're… You think the road's in a _closet?_ "

Turning a light on to see beneath the stairway closet, he turned around and exclaimed, "We're in heaven, Sam, okay? Our memories are comin' true, Cas is on TV. Finding a road in the closet would be pretty much the most…" He glanced down, attention caught, "normal thing happen to us today." Trailing off, he suddenly knelt down by the race car track he found at the bottom of the closet.

"What?" Sam asked.

Brows knotted, Dean laughed under his breath. "I used to have one of these." Lifting the blue car up, he checked the bottom and then put it on the plastic roadway. "When I was a kid." Grabbing the controller, he squeezed the trigger and watched as the car did a small run of the track.

"That… was the road?" Sam asked incredulously.

Dean looked around, eyes wide, to see they were no longer standing in a closet but a bedroom. "I guess," he said, standing up. "Trippy, right?"

"Yeah…" Swallowing a smile, he added, "More trippy, um… Apparently you _wuv_ hugs…" He nodded down toward Dean's shirt, which had morphed into a blue tee with a teddy on it exclaiming just that.

Looking down at his chest, he rolled his eyes at his brother. "Shut up."

Laughing, looked around the room.

"Wait a minute; I know where we are…" Dean muttered.

"Where?"

He half-smiled, laughing lightly under his breath. "We're _home_."

…

After a meet-up with the Mary Winchester of Dean's childhood, complete with crustless sandwiches, a muffled argument between dad and mom over the phone, and the promise of pie, Dean and Sam used a postcard marked with Motel 66 to pass through to Sam's memory of Flagstaff, where a good time had by Sammy was a bad memory for Dean…

"This is a good memory for you?" Dean asked, surprised, looking around the dump of a trailer.

"Yeah…" He grinned. "I mean, I was on my own for two weeks. I lived off of funyuns and Mr. Pip."

"Wow…" Dean stared at him.

"What?"

"Well, you don't remember, do you?"

Sam stared, waited.

"You ran away on _my watch_ ," Dean told him. "I looked _everywhere_ for you… I thought you were _dead!_ And when dad came home…" He smiled humorlessly, shaking his head as the pain of the memory resurfaced.

Looking down apologetically, Sam sort of shrugged and then looked back up at him, at a loss for words.

Biting his lip, Dean turned around, staring at the door.

"Dean, I'm sorry, I-I never thought about it like that."

"Forget about it, let's roll," he muttered, marching outside.

Sighing, Sam was left to say goodbye to Bones, his golden retriever of past, patting his head and telling him to stay as he followed Dean out onto the dark road. Looking all around, they paused as a flickering motel sign came into view. The sign read Vacancy, even though the 'n' was blinking out. Brows furrowed, they walked toward the lit up red door, seeing as there was nothing but a parking lot around them and no road in sight.

Turning the door handle, they found it unlocked and slipped through with curious but suspicious expressions, already wondering whose memory would surface next. When they popped inside, it was the same motel room they'd been in just before they'd been killed, sans the dead bodies and blood stains, of course. Before they could question it, the bathroom door opened and out stepped Chloe Sullivan in her pajama shorts and loose tank top, that clung to her skin and hugged her breasts.

"I still say we should've picked up that cob salad for Sam," she said in greeting, tucking her hair behind her ears before she turned the bathroom light off.

Slack jawed, Dean stared at her, forcing himself to stand still rather than run to her.

It was a memory, he had to remind himself. She wasn't real.

"Dean?" Sam asked.

"Last night," he replied hoarsely, eyes looking her up and down appreciatively, thankfully.

Taking a seat on the side of the bed, she wrinkled her nose. "Is it just me or it uncomfortably warm in here?"

Swallowing tightly, Dean walked toward her, brows raising as she stood from the bed and shimmied out of her shorts, tossing them to her bag. His mouth went dry and suddenly he whirled around to glare at Sam, whose eyes widened before he looked away, half-smiling to himself in amusement.

"Better," she said, sitting back down before narrowing her eyes at him as if he were laying there on the other side of the bed. "Just don't get any ideas."

Dean chuckled, shook his head and walked over to sit just opposite of her.

Flipping the blanket down, she sunk under the wispy sheet, leaning back against the pillows, and looked over at him with a half-smile. "You're usually half-naked and snoring by now, what's up?"

He stared at her, frowned. "Thinkin' too much," he replied from memory.

Her smile dimmed. "You think Bobby will be okay?"

"Not something you recover from easily…" He pursed his lips, glanced at Sam. "'Specially when it keeps happening."

"I don't get it sometimes…" Chloe sighed, curving her arm behind her head. "What's the point of loving someone if you're only going to lose them in the end?"

He cleared his throat, shook his head. "Dunno."

She grinned suddenly, looking up at him with a cheeky warmth to her eyes. "Just so you know… I have a habit of coming back from the dead, too. So if you think you're getting rid of me anytime soon, you've got another thing coming."

He laughed under his breath, cocking a brow at her. "You are _not_ normal."

Snorting, she narrowed her eyes playfully. "Don't go throwing the 'N' word around, Winchester. You're the epitome of _weird_."

He shrugged. "Yeah, but it works for me."

She rolled her eyes. "If you say so."

"Dean…" Sam interrupted, shifting uncomfortably.

Dean looked over, his grin fading. "Yeah… Right…"

"You think when this is all over, anything good'll come of it?" Chloe's voice wondered, the memory of her ignorant of what was going on around her.

He turned back, licked his lips and without another word, leaned down to kiss her forehead. Her eyes fell closed, a tiny breath of a sigh escaping her.

Just like last night, where her exhale had tickled his neck. Her hair was soft, wrapped around his fingers in golden locks of satin. She even smelled like _his_ Chloe and for a moment he wanted to pretend this was real, this was happening again. He wanted to rewind until before the two hunters from hell came rushing in to kill him, before he'd had to go on an Angel-run for Cas. He wanted to go back to just after midnight, lay in bed with her and listen to her laughter, watch her smile in the darkness of the night, the shadows playing over her face. He wanted to hold her, wrap his arms around her close and pretend this was all there was. Nothing else. Nothing more to fuck up around him.

But then his eyes opened and Sam wasn't sleeping in the bed adjacent to them, he was standing near the door, _waiting_. Because they had a job to do, again, and he was wasting time.

And so he drew back from her, rose from the bed, jaw ticking, and walked to the door, yanking it open quick and fast, hoping she wouldn't call out or she wouldn't laugh so he didn't have to give in, give up, and spend a little more time enjoying this memory. Sam followed him out, closing the door behind them, and standing once more on a dark, wet road separating them from the dim house on the opposite side. Walking forward, they both looked back to find the motel room gone.

Staring ahead, Sam sighed.

Clearing his throat, Dean tried to focus on their new adventure and not the last. "What memory is this?" he asked.

"No idea," Sam said nonchalantly. "All right, come on… _Dean_ …"

Suspicious, Dean turned around to look at him.

"Road? God?" He motioned his arms impatiently. "Remember?"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute… _This…?_ " He reared his head back slightly. "This is the night you ditched us for Stanford, innit?"

Sam looked down apologetically.

"This is _your idea_ of _heaven?_ " Shaking his head, he laughed incredulously. "Wow… This is like one of the worst nights of my life…"

"I can't control this stuff."

" _Seriously?_ " He scrunched his eyes up. "I mean, this is a _happy memory_ for you?"

"I don't know… I-I mean, I was on my own… I finally got away from _dad_ …"

"Yeah, he wasn't the only one ya got away from…" Dean muttered, turning back around to stare at the house.

"Dean, I'm sorry, I-I just…" He trailed off, taking a breath while he searched for the right words.

"I know, you didn't think of it like that," he replied bitterly.

"Dean…"

"Come on! _Your heaven_ is somebody else's Thanksgiving," he reminded, nodding. "Okay? It's bailing on _your_ family, I mean, what do you want me to say?" He threw his arms out. "My heaven is fireworks with you when we're kids, o-o-of lunch with _mom,_ and yours is _what?_ Anything that _doesn't_ involve your family?"

Sam shook his head dejectedly. "Man, I never got the crusts cut off my PB and J…" he tried to explain, smiling awkwardly. "I-I just don't look at family the way _you_ do."

"Yeah, but _I'm_ your family."

"I know."

"I mean we're supposed to be a _team_ , it's supposed to be me and you against the world, right?"

"And where does _Chloe_ fit into that, huh?" Sam shot back. "Can our whole lives be spent just me and you, against the world? Because yeah, okay, if it is, then I'm in, all right? That's what it'll be."

"Will it?" Dean asked, eyes narrowing, unconvinced.

"You're missing the picture here… Yes, some of my memories are of times that you don't agree with. Yes, they're times that maybe… I dunno, maybe I _hurt_ you. But don't you have any memories, any times you think about or wish for, that are _just_ for you? Not the family, not saving everybody else, but-but just _you_ , Dean…"

Clenching his jaw, he turned his eyes away.

"It's not _always_ going to be me and you…" He pointed behind them. "That, in there… At the motel, you and her… That's _real_ , Dean. That's _life_. That's having your own, of wanting something _more_." He blew out an irritated breath. "Maybe, for _once_ , you need to be selfish."

"I _am_ selfish!" he shouted. "I'm selfish enough to want my mom and my dad and my little brother in some cookie cutter life, better than all this, _all of it!_ "

"Is that _so_ bad then?" he asked, shaking his head. "To want that? To _dream_ of that?"

"I dunno… I just…" Dean sighed, kicking the dirt beneath his feet.

Silence reigned for a long moment while they tried to gather their thoughts, their arguments.

But then, searching them out, a bright beam of light shot down toward them; Zachariah.

"Go, go, go…" Dean ordered, turning and rushing toward the woods with Sam at his heels.

Rushing through the dark woods, they crisscrossed through trees, arms batting hanging branches from their faces and after minutes of tension filled running, hid down below an overturned tree, panting heavily.

"Wow, running from angels," a smug voice called out. "On foot. In heaven. With outta-the-box thinking like that, I'm surprised you boys haven't stopped the apocalypse already." Snapping his fingers, the angel brought daylight to the woods and laughed. "Guys… What's the problem? I just want to send you back to earth, that's all."

Sam and Dean looked behind them to see the balding angel facing the opposite direction, hurriedly ducking down when he turned.

"After I tear you a cosmos of new ones," he added, chuckling. "You're on my turf now, boys… And by the time I'm done with you, you're gonna be _begging_ to say yes."

Again, they looked over at him to see where he was before taking a leap of chance and hurrying out of their hiding spot.

Zachariah turned, spotted their running backs and appeared before them only moments later. "Guys, come on… You can run but you can't… _run_."

Panting, they turned back around and continued running, with no real destination in sight. Adrenaline pushed them forward, the knowledge that Zachariah brought nothing good. And as they stumbled into a clearing, they found a… _Mexican wrestler?_

"Shhh… Hurry! This way!" he told them, waving them after him as he ran toward an old, abandoned shed. Pausing, he drew something on the door and then stepped inside.

Not bothering to question the out, they followed him in to find themselves in what looked like an abandoned, musty saloon.

"Wait, who are you?" Dean demanded.

Taking off his mask and cape, he tossed them away and then said, "Buenos dias, _bitches!_ "

Incredulously, Dean exclaimed, " _Ash?_ "


	14. Chapter Thirteen

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XIII**.

Outrunning Zachariah, the angel out to toast their asses, they stumbled onto none other than a… _Mexican wrestler?_

"Shhh… Hurry! This way!" he told them, waving them after him as he ran toward an old, abandoned shed. Pausing, he drew something on the door and then stepped inside. Not bothering to question it, they followed him in to find themselves in what looked like an abandoned saloon.

"Wait, who are you?"

Taking off his mask and cape, he tossed them away and then said, "Buenos dias, _bitches!_ "

Incredulously, Dean exclaimed, " _Ash?_ "

Clapping his hands together and successfully turning the lights on, he held his arms out, "Welcome to my blue heaven!" He grinned.

Chuckling, Sam smiled, while Dean looked around in shock.

"Thank god, The Roadhouse," Dean sighed, "It even smells the same."

"Bud, blood and beer nuts. It's the best smell in the world!" Snapping his fingers, he pointed at them. "How about a cold one? Up here… No hang over."

They took a seat at the bar, looking around in awe.

"So," Sam laughed under his breath, "I mean, no offense…"

"How's a dirtbag like me," Ash finished knowingly, touching his dirty-blond mullet for emphasis, "end up in a place like this?" He looked around wistfully. "Been saved man! I was my congregation's number one snake handler."

"An-And you said this was, uh, _your_ heaven?"

"Yup, my own," he said, snapping open a hole in the side of his beer and then holding it up for him to knock back before crushing the can and belching.

"And when the angels jumped us, we were—"

"In _your_ heaven."

"So there's two heavens?"

"No, more like a hundred _billion_ ," Ash clarified. "So, no worries, it'll take them angel boys a minute to catch up," he reassured, nodding.

Dean shook his head.

"See, you gotta stop thinking of heaven," he told them, holding his arms up, "as one place. It's more like a _buttload_ of places that's all crammed together." Leaning forward, he waved his arm to better explain, "Like Disneyland. Except without all the anti-Semitism."

" _Disneyland_?" Sam repeated.

"Mmhmm. Yeah, see you got _Winchesterland_ …" He motioned around. "Ashland, a whooole mess of _everybody else_ lands, put 'em all together… _heaven_ , right? And at the center of 'em all, the magic kingdom…" He leaned forward. "The Garden."

"So everybody gets a little slice of paradise," Dean said.

"Pretty much," he frowned. "Few people share, special cases. What not."

"What d'you mean _special?_ "

"Oh, you know, like… soul mates and…" He trailed off.

"Which means Chloe's okay… Right?" Dean's brows lifted and he turned to Sam expectantly. "I mean, we haven't run into her an-and-- That, back there, that was just the _memory_ of her, so…"

"Chloe?" Ash asked, eyes narrowing. "Who's Chloe?"

Sam grinned, amused. "Dean's soul mate."

"That's right! _"_ he hooted, eyes widening suddenly. "I heard about that! News has been _buzzin'_ like crazy about you and yours, man…" Reaching over, he clapped Dean's shoulder and then frowned. "Ah man… If you're here and she's not…" He shook his head. "Dude, your wait could be… forever."

"Yeah, well," He coughed, clearing his throat uncomfortably and then shrugged it off. "We aren't gonna be dead long, so…"

"Yeah, denial's pretty common. Don't worry, you'll get used to it." He looked around, happily. "I did!"

"No, _really_ , we're gettin' outta here."

"Okay... You say so. I learned awhile back not to question the Winchester know-how." He shrugged easily. "Anyways, _most_ people, can't leave their private Idaho's…"

Dean smirked, pointing at him, "But you ain't most people."

"Nope." He winked proudly. "They ain't got my _skills…_ "

He nodded agreeably.

"Hell, I've been _all over_ … Johnny Cash, Andre the Giant," he listed and then looked to his right, "Einstein, Sam."

Impressed, Sam's eyes widened.

"That man can mix a White Russian," Ash claimed, "Hell, the other day, I found Mallanaga Vatsyayanas!"

"Who?"

"Wrote the Kama Sutra." He blew out a sigh, "That boys' heaven…" His brows furrowed. "Ah, sweaty, confusing…"

"All this from a guy who used to sleep on a pool table," Dean said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, now that I'm _dead_ , I'm _livin'_ man! Whole lot more!"

"So how'd you find us?" Sam wondered.

"Ah, I rigged up my very own…" He bent down to pick up something from beneath the bar. "Holy World police scanner." Pressing a button, the screen lit up with and a high noise escaped the speakers. "That's the angels, blabbing it up in Enochian." He leaned in, "I'm fluent." Pressing a button to shut it up, he hauled it away once more, "I heard that you were _up_ , course I had to come find you. _Again_."

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

"Again?"

"This ain't the first time you been here," he scoffed. "I mean you boys _die_ more than anybody I've ever met."

"Really?"

"Ahh… yeah… you don't remember… God, Angels," he cursed, eyes narrowed, "Musta Windexed your brains."

"So, uh, I mean have you found anybody else?" Sam wondered. "Ellen and Jo?"

Ash shook his head. "Ellen and Jo are dead?" He looked back and forth between them and when Dean's eyes fell to stare at the top, he stared at Sam.

"Uh, yeah," he sighed, "Yeah, a few months now." He paused. "I'm sorry."

"Aw, yeah…" Ash cleared his throat, taking a step back and pressing his fists together chest-level as he tried to gather himself. "Uh, they went down _fightin'_."

It wasn't a question, but Sam answered it anyway, "Yeah… 'Til the end."

"Yeah, lot a good it did," Dean muttered.

Sam glanced at him, surprised.

"What about our folks?" he asked, ignoring Sam in favor of Ash's insight.

Leaning his arms on the bar, Ash said, "I been lookin' all over for John Winchester. Mary, too. So far… nada." He sighed, "I'm sorry. But hey… there is somebody that I know for _sure_ wants to jive with _you_ … Hold up." Snapping his fingers, he left the bar and walked over to a door, disappearing behind it only to reappear moments later with a familiar face.

Turning in his seat, Sam greeted, "Pamela!"

"Nice to see you boys again," she replied.

"Whooo!" Ash blew out happily.

…

While Sam and Ash fiddled around with his Angel Radio, Dean took a seat at a table with Pamela.

"So…"

"So," she said, leaning in and reaching over to slap him upside the dead. "That's for getting me killed."

"Yeah, well that's… probably less than I deserve." He took a quick breath, "Makes you feel better, we got Ash killed too."

"I'm cool with it!" Ash said, showing him the Rock on! sign with his hand.

"He's cool with it," he agreed, looking back at Pamela. "So you… Are ya good?"

"I'm good," she drawled.

He stared at her a moment, unconvinced.

She smiled. "Really."

He nodded, looking down at the table in thought.

"Remember my death scene? Gut shot, coughing blood," she snickered, "You told me I was going some place better."

"I was lying," he said simply.

"You were _right_ ," she argued, eyes wide with emphasis. "It is one long show at the Meadowlands. It's _amazing!_ You should see it!" she told him, grinning.

He smiled back. "Yeah?"

"You don't believe me."

"Oh, I do… It's j-just, you know…" He sighed. "Spending eternity trapped in your own littler universe while the angels run the show… th-that's lonely. You know, that-that's not nirvana, that's _The Matrix_."

"I dunno, attic's still better than the basement." She stared at him a moment.

"This place…" He motioned around him. "It _feels_ real, but it's Memorex. Real is down there."

"Yeah, well, close enough," she said simply. "And besides… not all of us have predestined soul mates to spend our afterlife with."

His brows furrowed. "You know about that?"

She smirked. "Angel Hotline talks about you enough, there's not much we miss up here…"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, if she knew what was good for her, she'd split."

"Maybe she's just as self-sacrificing as you are then," Pamela told him.

His brow's furrowed.

She snorted. "Think about it, Dean. Do a little role-reversal. If you were in her place, if you knew that it could be your life for the many, wouldn't you stick around?" She smiled slowly. "And the scenery ain't bad either."

He cocked a half-smile but there was nothing behind it. "So what… You think she'll really stick through this?"

"I think…" She leaned forward, bracing herself so she could stare seriously into his eyes. "That if destiny picked somebody out for you, somebody they believed had to be there with you through this, then they'd have to pick very seriously. This isn't a game of Hot or Not, Dean. It's life or death. You need some serious gumption and spirit to get through this kind of life." She shook her head. "The faint of heart don't last."

He grunted, crossing his arms beneath him and falling into his thoughts.

"So onto bigger and better things…" she said, drawing his attention back to her before she grinned. "Look, Dean, I'm _happy_. I'm at _peace_."

"What're ya tryin' to sell me, a Timeshare?" he replied snarkily. "I mean, what's with the pitch?"

She laughed, head falling as she grinned. "I know that Michael wants to take you out for a test drive."

"Pamela," he muttered warningly.

"Just saying… What happens… if you play ball with him?" Her brow furrowed. "Worst case."

"A lot of people _die_."

"And then they come _here!_ Is that _really_ so bad?"

He didn't reply, instead staring at her with dark tension.

"Look… Maybe… You don't have to fight it so hard."

Turning his head away, he licked his lips in frustration.

"That's all I'm trying to say." Reaching out, she clasped her hand around his wrist. "Think of it this way… This all ends, one way or another… And when it does, the sooner the better. Because eventually, whether you think it's good enough or not, you'll be in your own slice of heaven with that soul mate of yours. And _trust me_ , having an afterlife with her, sans the demon and mess, that's gotta be a hell of a lot better than what's really going on down there."

Dean stared, brows knotted in thought.

The idea she proposed wasn't bad; the problem was that she was only telling him of the benefits and not the downsides.

Even so, he had to wonder… What would his and Chloe's utopia look like? She came from city life while he was always on the road, never really stopping anywhere for too long. His only real home was the one he shared with his parents and even that had some pretty bad memories. His libido wanted to say it'd be one giant ass bed, just him and her and non-stop rowdy, passionate sex, a whole damn afterlife of it. But reality said it'd be more than that.

Ash had The Roadhouse, Pamela had her metal concerts, and apparently soul mates got to share their heaven however they wanted it… So what would he and Chloe have? Besides a lack of bloodshed and demon v. angel wars. Even just having none of that sounded good. Just him and Chloe, no worries, no responsibilities. He rubbed his brow, knowing that he shouldn't want it as much as he did. Down there was real life, one he was going back to. So whatever Pamela was selling, it wasn't gonna stick. Not for awhile yet. Even if some part of him was more than ready to give in to Michael, just for the chance to end it all right then and there.

"Hey!" Sam called out, drawing their attention. "Found a shortcut to The Garden."

"Oh yeah!" Ash added with another Rock on! sign.

…

Ash bent at the door, drawing another sign into the wood. "Numeral X is passed to the magic kingdom."

"Good," Dean growled.

He looked back at him with wide eyes.

"Not good?"

"That Zach fella's gonna be watchin' _every_ road to The Garden," he warned.

With a frown, he nodded, turning back to see Pamela and Sam hugging goodbye.

"So watch your ass," she told him.

With a smile, he nodded.

"And Dean…" she said, turning toward him.

He held his arms open for a hug but as she stepped in, she reached up and drew his head down, slanting her mouth across his with no holds barred passion.

Surprised, he stood there, eyes wide. Slowly, she drew away, sighing, "Yep… Just how I imagined it," she murmured appreciatively. "Whoever she is… she is one very lucky girl." With a chuckle, she patted his cheek.

Confused, he stepped back, brows furrowed.

Sam cocked a brow.

Dean cleared his throat, frowning. "We don't tell Chloe this part, kay?"

He only smirked back.

Ash jumped up from his crouch at the door and turned back toward them. "Ah… gentlemen," he sighed loudly. "Don't mean to be a downer or anything but, uh, I'm sure I'll see you again here soon." He nodded slowly.

"Well, keep a sixer on ice for us."

"Yeah." He nodded, opening the door for them.

Stepping through, they paused as they arrived in a dark house.

"What the… What are we doing back home?" Dean asked.

"I dunno…" Sam looked at him in surprise. "So what are we gonna do?"

"Keep lookin' for the road again, I guess."

"Honey," Mary Winchester's voice interrupted, "Why are you _up?_ "

Dean whirled around, sighing as he spotted his mother. "Look, I-I'm sorry, I love you… but you're _not real_. Okay? We don't have time—"

"Did you a nightmare? Tell me."

Dean held his hands up, paused, and then said, "I gotta go."

"Then how 'bout I tell you my nightmare, Dean?"

While walking away from her, he stopped, looked back.

"The night I _burned_ ," she said glibly.

Brows furrowed, he cocked his head at her.

All of a sudden blood began to seep through Mary's nightgown, across her wasted stomach.

"Come on, Sammy, let's go…"

"Don't you walk away from me…" she ordered at their retreating backs.

Stopping, he looked back at her over his shoulder.

"I never loved you," she said simply. "You were my burden. I was shackled to you." Staring at him darkly, she murmured, "Just like Chloe is… Just like anybody who knows you will be." Her eyes flickered yellow. "Look what it got me."

"Dean," Sam called.

He looked back at him.

The room shuddered, every way out was blocked, and then a green glow lit from the floorboards, creeping partway up the wall.

Eyes flickering back, Mary walked toward him with eerie motions. "The worst was the smell… The pain, well, what can you say about your _skin_ bubbling off?" She cocked her head.

Sam looked away.

"But the smell… was _so_ … You know, for a second I almost thought I'd left a pot-roast burning in the oven." She smiled. "But… It was… my meat."

Dean backed up, away from her, his breathing pained.

"And then _finally_ , I was dead."

He turned, started feeling the walls, the windows, for an exit.

"The one silver-lining is that at least I was away from you…" She grinned widely and then sighed. "Everybody leaves you, Dean, you noticed? Mommy… Daddy…" She tipped her head. "Even Sam…" Sighing, she pursed her lips. "So what makes you think _she_ is any different? Hm?" She shook her head, chuckling under her breath. "Right now, she's probably _relieved_ to know that her burden is over with… Without you, she can go back to her life, back to what's normal…" Her expression faded, the angles darkly harsh. "She'll never think of you again."

Dean swallowed tightly.

"You ever ask yourself why?" Mary said. "Maybe it's not them. _Maybe_ … It's _you_." She laughed, eyes wrinkling at the corners with her mirth.

"Easy now, Kitten," Zachariah's voice intervened, followed by the man himself as he walked into the room to stand at her side, a smug grin on his face.

"You did this," Sam accused.

"And I'm just getting started. I mean, _guys_ , did you really think you could just _sneak_ past me into mission control?"

"You sonuvabitch!" he growled, advancing, only to be grabbed by arms from behind.

"You know, I'd say the same about you, Sam, but I have actually grown quite fond of your mother. Or at least the blessed memory of her." Leaning down, he slid her hair from her neck to press a kiss.

Closing his eyes with disgust, Dean turned his head away.

"I think we're gonna be logging a _lot_ of quality time together," Zachariah said, staring down at the eerie Mary. "I've discovered she's quite the, uh… _MILF_."

"Gloat all you want, you dick," Dean growled, "You're still bald." He smirked.

"In heaven, I have six wings and four faces, one of which is a _lion_ ," he said, motioning around his head. "You see this because you're…" He trailed off, reaching out to drag a finger down Mary's bare arm. "Limited."

Sam snarled, stretching his neck as rage built up inside him.

After a moment of he and Mary staring longingly at each other, Zachariah banished her away with a snap of his fingers. "Let's brass-tact this, shall we?"

"What are ya gonna ball-gag us until we say yes, huh? Yeah, I've heard that, too," Dean muttered.

Punching Dean smugly in the stomach, he watched as he crumbled. "I'm gonna do a lot more than that, I cleared my schedule. Get him up."

"No," Sam pleaded.

After another punch to Dean's gut, Zachariah leaned in, "Lemme tell you something, I was on the fast-track _once,_ employee of the month, every month, forever. I'd walk these walls and people would," his voice rose in a shrill shout, _"Avert their eyes!_ I had _respect!_ " He jabbed the air with his finger before whirling to look disdainfully at Sam and then back at Dean. "And then they assigned me you," he said quietly, laughing humorlessly. "Now look at me." He tucked his hands in his pockets, stepped back. "I can't close a deal on a couple of flannel wearing _maggots?_ " He chuckled. "Everybody's _laughing_ at me." His humor faded, eyes falling low. "And they're right to do it. So…!" He shook his head. "Say yes, don't say yes, I'm still gonna take it outta your asses! It's _personal_ now, boys. And the _last_ person in the history of creation you want as your enemy is _me_. And I'll tell you why…" He cocked his head. "Lucifer, may be strong, but I'm… _petty_ ," he spat. "I'm gonna be the angel of your shoulder for the rest of eternity."

"Excuse me, sir," another voice called out, low, humble. A dark-skinned, elderly man stood in the room behind them.

"I'm in a meeting!" Zachariah snapped.

"I'm sorry," he said, motioning between Dean and Sam, "I need to speak to those two."

He took a step toward him, incredulous, "Excuse me?"

"It's a bad time, I know…" He smiled. "But I'm afraid I'll have to insist."

Zachariah scoffed, licking his lips. "You don't get to insist jack-squat."

"No, you're right, but the boss does," the man told him firmly, his eyes wide with emphasis, "His orders."

Sam swallowed tightly, glancing at Dean, who had the same shocked expression.

"You're lying," Zachariah accused.

"Wouldn't lie about _this_." He paused. "Look, fire me if you want. Sooner or later, he's going to come back home and you know how he is with that whole… _wrath_ … _thing_ …"

He looked from the man to the Winchesters and then with a faint noise, disappeared, taking his associates with him.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief and then stepped up next to Sam to stare at their savior.

All around them, the walls of their house faded into that of a green garden. Trees, bushes, the squall of birds high above.

"This is…" Sam motioned, " _Heaven's_ garden?"

"It-It's nice…ish," Dean muttered. "I guess."

"You see what you want to here…" the man told them. "For some it's God's thrown room, for others it's Eden… You two, I believe, it's the Cleveland Botanical gardens. You came here… on a field trip."

Sam half-smiled, remembering vaguely. "You're Joshua," he said, knowingly.

"I'm Joshua."

"So you… _talk_ to God."

"Mostly, he talks to me."

Dean and Sam exchanged a look.

"Well, um, we need to speak with him," Sam said. "It's important."

"Where is he?" Dean asked.

"On earth," Joshua said with a half-smile.

"Doing _what?_ "

"I don't know."

"Do you know _where_ on earth?" Sam hoped.

"No, sorry, we don't exactly speak face to face."

Mouth gaping, Dean shook his head, "I'm sorry, h-h… I don't get it. God's not talkin' to nobody, so why's he—"

"Why's he talkin' to me," Joshua finished, "I sometimes think it's cause I can… _sympathize_. Gardener to gardener." He glanced at Sam. "And between us, I think he gets lonely."

Unconvinced, Dean lifted a brow. "Well, my heart's breakin' for him."

"Can you at least get him a message for us?" Sam wondered.

Joshua looked at him. "Actually, he has a message for you."

Sam pursed his lips, quirking his head in question.

Joshua glanced too at Dean before saying simply, "Back off."

Dean looked confused. "What?"

"He knows already. Everything you want to tell him."

"But—"

"He knows what the angels are doing. He knows that the apocalypse has begun." He took a deep breath, "He just doesn't think it's… his problem."

"Not his problem," Dean repeated, frowning.

"God saved you already," Joshua told him intensely, "He put you on that plane. He brought back Castiel. He granted you salvation in heaven and after everything you've done, too." He turned a dark look at Sam. "It's more than he's intervened in a long time." And finally, he sighed, "He's finished. Magic amulet or not, you won't be able to find him."

"But he can stop it… He can stop _all of it_."

"I suppose he could. But he won't."

"Why not?"

"Why does he allow evil in the first place? You could drive yourself _nuts_ asking questions like that."

"So he's just gonna sit back and watch the world _burn?_ " he exclaimed angrily.

"I know how important this was to you, Dean." He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Nodding slowly, Dean pursed his lips. "Well forget it. Just another deadbeat dad with a bunch of excuses, right?"

The resolve he had to do this his way, to tell Michael to go fuck himself, just crumble some more.

Joshua sighed, looking apologetic.

"Ah, I'm used to that. I'll _muddle_ through."

"Except… you don't know if you _can_ this time." He raised his chin knowingly. "You can't kill the devil. And you're losing faith. In yourself, your brother, and now _this_. God was your last hope." Staring at him, Joshua sighed. "There are options… Things you've yet to explore or understand… _People_ who will mean more than you can ever imagine."

Sam sighed. "How do we know that you're telling the truth?"

Joshua looked over at him with a scoff. "You think that I would _lie?_ "

He shook his head. "It's just… You're not exactly the first angel we've met…"

"I'm rooting for you boys," he exclaimed, raising his hands to them. "I wish I could do more to help you, I do… _But_ … I just trim the hedges."

"So what now?" Dean wondered grimly.

"You go home again. Continue this journey of yours, but with another plan," Joshua told him, walking toward a dirt path. "I'm afraid _this_ time won't be like the last… This time, God wants you to _remember_." Raising his palm in farewell, a bright light encompassed the Winchesters, blinding them momentarily.

…

Sam came alive with a desperate gasp for air, lunging forward to a sitting position, his hand reaching for his mangled chest. Seconds later, Dean rose the same way, giving a sharp cough and looking down at his bloody body.

"You all right?"

"Define all right," he muttered, brow cocked. Suddenly, his eyes were moving all around, searching the room. "Chloe," he said, jumping off the bed. "Chloe?" Rushing toward the bathroom, he threw the door open only to find it empty. "Goddamnit!" Stomping back out, he rushed toward the door.

"Whoa, wait, where are you _going?_ "

"To Bobby's…" He cursed. "They didn't hit it off, but hell, she better be there…" He grit his teeth, reaching for the handle, only to have Sam shove him back. "What the hell, man?"

"Uh, newsflash, Dean, you're covered in blood… You really think you should be walking outta here looking like _that?_ "

"I don't _care_ ," he muttered. "She's out there somewhere, thinkin' we were just _killed._ And if she's not at Bobby's, there's a chance those assholes Roy and Walt have her," he growled. "I am gonna _kill_ those fuckers!"

"Take a breath! Calm down. You just need to relax. Going out there half-cocked isn't going to help anybody," he reminded hurriedly. "Look, why don't you try calling first? You've got Chloe's cell, right?"

Grumbling, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed.

"That won't be necessary," Castiel's voice called out, drawing their attention.

"Cas," Dean breathed in relief. "Where's Chloe?"

"Safe."

He stared at him, waited impatiently. "And? Can I get an address or something?"

He looked away uncomfortably.

Dean's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What did you _do?_ "

"I froze her."

"What? You _what?_ "

Sighing, he waved his hand, and there on the bed was Chloe, crouched as if Dean was still there, her hand outreached as though she were still cupping his face.

"Well unfreeze her!"

"I'm warning you," Cas reminded lowly, "She thinks you've just been killed."

"Prepare for hysterics, got it," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Is there a _reason_ you had to work your angel voodoo on her?"

"It was necessary."

"Necessary _how?_ " Sam wondered.

Cas sighed deeply. "Something… _happens_ when one half of a coupled mate dies. The other becomes…" His brow furrowed, "Unmanageable."

Dean blinked. "What? Like give her a strait-jacket, she just lost her bananas? You gotta explain this a little better."

"Like dad," Sam said quietly, his forehead wrinkling. "After mom died, he became _obsessed_ … To the point where it was all that mattered…"

Castiel nodded. "Soul mates aren't made for lives lived separate. Their purpose is served together and when one is lost unexpectedly…" He trailed off, his brow cocked. "As I said, she would have become unmanageable."

"So you thought freezing her in the moment until we got our asses zapped back here was a _better_ idea?"

He stared and then glanced at the still frozen Chloe. "Yes."

Jaw clenched, Dean nodded. "Great… And how'd you even get here in time anyway? Roy and Walt looked ready to roast her too."

He pursed his lips. "I arrived shortly after you and Sam had been shot. I… took care of your two attackers."

"Yeah, well, better have left me some 'cause we still got business." Crossing his arms over his chest, he nodded his chin toward the bed. "You mind waving your magic finger, Angel-boy. Let's get this over with."

Cas snapped his fingers.

Chloe came apart immediately, her body shifting forward as Dean's was no longer there to support her angle. Hands pressing into the bed, covered in his blood, she looked around wildly in confusion. Breathing heavily, her entire body shook like a leaf caught in a windstorm.

Wincing as his chest ached, Dean crossed the room quickly. "Hey," he said quietly, kneeling next to the bed, just in her line of vision. She wasn't looking at him; in fact she seemed to be trying to look everywhere _but_ at him. He suddenly wondered if maybe he had it right with the straitjacket. It wasn't everyday that she was clutching a dead guy one second and staring at him perfectly okay the next. She had to be thinking she'd lost her marbles. Green eyes glazed, her mouth opened and closed but no words or noises escaped her.

"Com'ere," he told her, reaching out to take her hands and draw her closer.

She reared back at first, as if she couldn't give in only to find he wasn't real. But he wouldn't let her. Grabbing her knees, he tugged her across the bed with one swift yank, until she was pressed tight to his chest, unable to escape. A choked sob escaped her throat as her face crumbled and tears spilled.

"Shh, shhh," he said, shaking his head. He was _not_ good with crying women, but in that moment he didn't even consider just running away and leaving it in his brother's hands. Instead, he hugged her, tucking her head beneath his chin. "It's okay… all right… I got you."

Arms wrapped tight around his neck, she squeezed him until he nearly suffocated, burying her face against his shoulder.

Emotions weren't his thing, and showing them was never on his menu, but lately, when it came to her, some things just couldn't be kept back. He'd been scared. _Terrified_ that Roy and Walt had killed her, or worse, taken her along with them, for information or whatever else. Rage and fear clouded his mind and Cas' non-answers hadn't helped. But there was always a job and he had to trust that she was okay, that she'd be there when he got back. He hadn't expected this, though.

Her tears were soaking through his shirt, warm against his skin. Some part of his head reminded him that there were other people there, seeing this, and he knew later he'd be uncomfortable with it. For right now, he was trying to figure out what the hell she was mumbling into his shirt. Finally, he drew back slightly, only to realize she was calling him names in between swearing. He laughed slightly before burying his face against her hair, kissing her ear without even thinking about it, and rubbing his hand up and down her back as she shook and shuddered against him. He hadn't realized until that very moment just how good it was to have her there, to know that she was okay and alive and pissed as hell, but not some memory or being held against her will as some sadistic payback. He figured her could relish in the sweetness of how unlikely but welcomed that was for a few seconds anyway.

It took minutes for her to get it all out, for her to run out of tears and energy. Finally, she just slumped against him, panting for breath.

Slowly, he maneuvered her back. "You all right?"

She sniffled. "Define all right."

He half-smirked. "You want us to explain?"

She glared. "In detail!"

He nodded, standing up from where he'd been kneeling uncomfortably. Standing above her, he looked down to see her looking so lost and small. Slim body wearing the same clothes he'd last seen her in only now she was spattered with blood, with _his_ blood. Eyes swollen and tear tracks still long down her cheeks, she looked _broken_.

" _You were my burden. I was shackled to you_ ," his mother's voice echoed in his mind. " _Just like Chloe is… Just like anybody who knows you will be._ "

Swallowing tightly, he reached down to brush her mussed hair from her damp cheek and hated that he was the _reason_ she'd fallen apart.

A burden, just like his mom had said. Possessed or under control of whatever the hell she was, she'd been right. Little over a week he'd been with Chloe, brought her right into his life and expected _what?_ That she'd realize her mistake and move on unscathed? Or that destiny would figure this out _for_ them? It wasn't up to cupid or God's plan or whatever forces had drawn them together. Fact of the matter was she'd be better off without him. She wouldn't be here, soaked in his blood, asking questions and fearing her future and being part of a seriously effed up war if it wasn't for him.

Maybe Pamela had it right. Maybe he should give in to Michael. And hell, even if he shouldn't, Chloe shouldn't be along for the ride. He'd promised her he wouldn't hurt her and here she was, a broken mess, suffering. And for what?

"Dean," Castiel said, staring at him.

"Yeah, right… So… Should we start from the dying part of just cut straight to the God's-gone-AWOL and wants to stay that way?"

…

An hour later, Dean, Chloe and Sam had changed, doing a quick clean up in the bathroom and then wiping down what they could of the blood spatter in the bedroom. Packing away their things, they bore witness to Castiel's dwindling hope.

"Maybe… Maybe Joshua was lying."

The three of them turned to look at him sorrowfully.

"I don't think he was, Cas. I'm sorry," Sam sighed.

Chin falling, Castiel's eyes drew closed.

Dean frowned, watched, unsure what to say or do.

Walking to the center of the room, Castiel cursed, "You son of a bitch, I believed…" He stared at the ceiling, swallowed tightly, and gave in to defeat. Chin falling once more, he turned back to Dean, dragged the amulet necklace from his pocket and said, "I don't need this anymore," before he tossed it back. As Dean caught it in his hand, the amulet falling free to hang, Castiel added, "It's worthless."

"Cas… _wait_ …" Sam said.

But with the sound of fluttering wings, he disappeared.

Licking his lips, he shook his head. "We'll find another way… We can still stop this, Dean."

Looking up, Dean sighed, feeling bitter resignation well up inside. "How?"

"I don't know…" He glanced at Chloe and then back. "There are other options, right? That's what Joshua said. Important people who… Who'll mean something to this war."

Jaw clenching, Dean shook his head. "No…" Zipping up his duffle bag, he sighed, his decision made. "She's going back tomorrow…"

"What?" Chloe asked, jumping up.

"This ain't a discussion, Chloe," he told her, refusing to meet her eyes. "Tomorrow, you're on the first flight back to Metropolis… No arguments."

Eyes wide and mouth ajar, Chloe shook her head. "In case you're slow on the uptake, let me make this very clear… I'm not _going_ anywhere, Dean Winchester!" Hands on her hips, she glared darkly at him. "You think I'll be any safer there than here?"

Pursing his lips, he closed the space between them, hands raising to cup her face firmly and drag her forward until they were chest to chest. "I think you being this damn close to the apocalypse is going to end with you dead," he growled dangerously.

"If that's my fate then so be it," she replied through grit teeth.

"Wrong," he spat back, shaking his head. "See this whole fate and destiny and soul mates bull, it's wrong. It was a lie. An illusion. Okay?" He stared at her searchingly. "We heard it all upstairs. You and me," He laughed emotionlessly, "We're nothing. You're just here as a distraction, something to throw me off. So yeah, maybe it worked, but sweetheart… This time tomorrow, you'll be safely back in your swanky Metropolis apartment and if I can help it, this apocalypse won't hit your doorstep."

Eyes burning with tears, she snarled, "You're lying."

Fingers tight in her hair, he winced before sneering at her and shaking his head. "You'll never really know… 'Cause this is the last time you'll ever see me." Letting go of her, he turned around and stalked out of the room, pausing only to drop the useless necklace in the garbage can.

As the door slammed, Chloe flinched, a tear escaping down her cheek. Reaching for it, she wiped swiftly and then pressed her fingers to her quivering mouth. Gathering herself, she took a deep breath. "Sam…"

Frowning, he turned to her. "Yeah?"

She glanced at him, tried her best to smile. "Take care of him."

His brow furrowed, mouth ajar as if he wanted to say something but instead he nodded.

Licking her lips, she walked to the door, paused, and then knelt to the floor, digging out the necklace before she rose once more and left.

By the time Sam got outside, she was gone and Dean was waiting in the car, honking impatiently.

Sighing at the turn of events, he grabbed up the bags, wondering if he should take Chloe's along with them. Knowing that when he got downstairs she wouldn't be in the backseat, he left the bag behind, hoped she would get it. Standing in the doorway, he looked back at the room. Where blood lay dry on the bedspreads, a red duffel bag was alone on the floor, the broken pieces of a blooming relationship were shattered all around and any hope for the future had been seriously dashed.

Swallowing thickly, he prayed, even if God wasn't listening.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XIV.**

Chloe Sullivan was no stranger to heartbreak. In fact, she was on its mailing list despite repeat tries to remove herself. Seemed the editor had it out for her because no matter how many times she cancelled her subscription to Love Them Until They Leave You, it just kept coming. Hurrying away from the motel room, she struggled to keep a sob from breaking past her throat and being released for all to hear. Dean Winchester, that stupid sonuvabitch! Rolling her eyes, she smiled sadly to herself. And the worst part was if he came around the corner right then and honked the horn, she'd hop in the back of his Impala and go along for the ride.

But he didn't and so she kept walking. She walked across the parking lot and down the dark city streets, the sun rose and she walked through a freshly opened and busy mall, past all those oblivious people. They laughed, they cried, they joked with their friends, all having no idea that on the outskirts of their normal existence, Lucifer was waiting to play ball with their insignificant heads. She wiped at her face constantly, the tears never quite abating. She'd stopped sniffling, stopped hiccupping, but they continued to swim in her eyes and draw tracks down her cheeks. It seemed she walked for hours before she finally sat down on a bench near a park, staring out as children of all ages played on a jungle gym, waved at their parents, pleaded for attention. "Look at me! See what I can do!" And there she sat, with her shoulders slumped and her chin tilted down, watery eyes watching as family after family moved on, taking their kids when the sun fell behind the mountains.

Streetlamps lit up, giving her an eerie glow, the wind began to whistle all around, tossing her hair about. And to think, just last night she'd been laughing with him, sharing with him, cuddled up in his arms as he held her close, protectively. And it was all… a decoy plan? Some master chess player, be it angel or demon, had decided she was to step in and distract the Winchesters? She didn't want to believe it. Denial swept hard and thorough, eating at her insides, tearing at her heart. It couldn't _not_ be real. The things she'd felt, the things she'd told him and he'd told her, the moments they'd had together…

No.

Screw him. Screw all of them! The angels, the demons, even God himself!

Sniffling, she rose from her crouched position on the bench, feeling the ache of muscles unused, and stalked toward the nearest payphone. Dropping in a few coins, she waited impatiently for her call to be answered. Chewing her lip until the copper taste of blood spilled across her tongue, her foot tapping away at the concrete below. Answer, _please_ , answer!

_Brrring… Brrrring… Brrri—_

"Yeah?" came a quick, impatient shout.

Chloe opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. How was she supposed to sum this up; say all that needed to be said?

"Listen, if this is a solicitation, I no speaky any English, all right buddy? And if it's a prank—"

"Lo?" Chloe interrupted on a choked whisper.

There was a pause. "Chloe?"

She wanted to say something, anything, she wanted to yell and scream and spill everything that had happened over the last week. Instead, a stuttered sob escaped her lips.

"Oh, Chloe…" Lois sighed, knowingly. "Gimme your coordinates. I'll have Ollie send the jet and I'll be waiting with Chunky Monkey and a shoulder."

Laughing thankfully, Chloe turned her eyes up to keep the tears at bay once more. "I suck," she admitted, sniffling.

"No," Lois denied. " _He_ sucks. Whoever the hell he is!"

Giggling thankfully, she rubbed at her aching chest and then told Lois exactly where she was, knowing all the while that she was about to spill the beans on her less-than-relaxing vacation and the heartbreak it came with.

…

Sam was staring at him. He hadn't said one word, he was just sitting there, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at him out the corner of his eyes.

Sighing under his breath, Dean shifted in his seat, purposely ignoring his brother's pissy attitude.

Finally, Sam scoffed. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

Jaw clenching, Dean cocked a brow, shook his head. "Don't," he ordered, his voice low, dangerous, _warning_.

Brows lifted high on his head, Sam stared at him incredulously. "I don't get it!" he exclaimed. "You ask for help, you get it. God's very own _gardening buddy_ tells you that there are other options, and the _one person_ we're all pretty sure is key to us surviving is the _only_ person you decide to walk away from." He opened his mouth, stuttered for an answer, "I-I don't even…" Waving his arms in front of him, he was baffled. "You tell her it's all a _lie?_ The feelings, the destiny thing, that she's there to be a _distraction_ …" Brows furrowed, he licked his lips, turning in his seat to stare at him. "Do you even _know_ what that could mean to her? That she was used as a _pawn_ all the while thinking she was helping."

Having heard enough, Dean gripped his hands on the wheel. "Damn it, Sam! What part of 'Don't' do you not get?" he snapped. "I don't wanna talk about it, I don't wanna _think_ about it. Just drop it!"

"Fine," he muttered. "You know what, it's done." Shaking his head, he sat back in his seat, glaring out the windshield. "And when you're sitting in your heaven, _minus one_ , remember that _I_ told you you were an idiot."

Jaw ticking, he glared at him from the corner of his eyes. "You done?"

"Yeah… yeah, I'm done."

Dean gave a short nod and then returned his eyes to the road, thankful that Sammy shut the hell up after that. Even going so far as to fall into an uncomfortable looking sleep, his head sprawled back in a way that would no doubt cramp his neck later.

They'd been on the road a little over an hour, hardly any other cars passing by. But each time one did, he had a panicky feeling. Like suddenly he thought it would stop and she would jump out, flag him down, call him an ass and jump in. Stupid thing was, whenever a car did go by and it didn't happen, he was disappointed. He told her to go, he told her it was a lie, he was saving her ass whether she wanted it saved or not. This was his mess, his end-of-the-world apocalypse and he wasn't going to have her there, served up on a platter to Lucifer or Michael or whoever else got the balls to try something. He didn't want to hurt her and this was the only way he knew how to avoid it.

Running a hand down his face, he shook his head, cursing his existence for the three billionth time in his life. This was getting too hard, living like this, knowing the things he knew, seeing the world fall apart, the people he cared about lost, the one woman who… who he…

 _Hell_.

Swallowing tightly, he cleared his throat roughly and reached for the dial on the radio. He needed some noise to get his head to focus, to get his mind off of her.

It was all static the first few turns and then guitar broke through and he paused, let it play through. This was what he needed; just some rock music and a long road. No spirited woman in the back telling him mullet rock sucked or trying to outplay him with her lame laptop crap that she _thought_ was music. No distracting legs sprawled along his backseat, her shoes and socks tossed in favor of hanging her tiny, newly painted feet out his window. And how the hell was he supposed to get red nail polish out of black leather anyway? He should've been angry, pissed, but he found himself grinning.

_Ten miles from town and I just broke down,_

_Spittin' out smoke on the side of the road,_

_I'm out here alone just tryin' to get home,_

_To tell you I was wrong but you already know…_

_Believe me I won't stop at nothin',_

_To see you so I've started runnin'…_

Sonofa…

He hated irony.

Staring at the ceiling of his car, he had to wonder if some _divine_ being hadn't thought to lay it on a little thicker, a nice quick kick in the ass to remind him they were the ones pulling the heartstrings around here.

Regret was a word Dean Winchester familiarized with all too much. Did he regret walking away from her? Of course. Would he do it all over again? Hell yes. Why? Because she meant more to him than any of this. Because if he was going to doubt himself and that God or Cas or any of them had the right idea, he didn't need to drag her down with him. Because if he gave in to Michael, he didn't want her there to see him do it. He didn't want her to see him defeated.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he glared out at the road ahead of him, clearing his throat when it became painfully dry, when his eyes were overwhelmingly warm.

Right now, she'd have been in the backseat, typing away at her laptop or telling him some ridiculous story involving her teen years in Smallville. She'd laugh, the full belly weight of it making his body stand at attention. And unable to help herself, she'd reach out, drag her finger down his neck or around the shell of his ear, maybe just card her fingers through his hair. And she'd whisper to him, careful not to wake Sammy. Little inconsequential things, asking him how he was feeling, if he wanted to take a break soon, if he was feeling too tired… Because she cared, because she was looking out for him. His eyes fell to half-mass at the memory of her being so close, of her touch, soothing, _constant_.

And what'd he have now? Without her?

A pissed off brother, a war about to end bloody and bad, and a decision he really didn't want to make.

_Last time we talked,_

_The night that I walked,_

_Burns like an iron in the back of my mind,_

_I must've been high to say you and I,_

_Weren't meant to be and just wastin' my time…_

_Oh, why did I ever doubt you?_

_You know I would die here without you_

He swallowed tightly.

Joshua said it best. He wasn't sure he had any belief left in him. Not for himself or whoever was going to turn this whole thing around. Cupid thought it right to toss Chloe in his direction when his hope for the future was already hanging by a thread. And yeah, maybe she kept him going a little longer, maybe she made him think there was something worth saving out there, but it had to end eventually. It always did. So he sent her off before she could become like everybody before her. Just another name on a list of casualties who went down trusting that he'd see it through to the end.

She'd told him she wouldn't give up, wouldn't walk away, and so he had to turn her away, _push her_. And damn it, it hurt. It fucking _ached_. His chest was burning in a way that made his knuckles whiten around the steering wheel. His eyes kept glancing at the mirror, expecting her to be in the backseat. Where was she? Was she okay? Would she make it out there on her own? She had friends, family, to go back to, he reassured himself. People that would keep her safe, watch out for her. But they weren't him.

He smiled bitterly to himself. Wasn't it just _fate_ that he realized they really did work, that they actually fit in some screwed up way, in the same moment he knew he had to sacrifice what they had? If he'd stayed, if he'd let her talk him through it, maybe things would have been different. Maybe she'd have gotten his hopes back up and he'd be able to see this through. And maybe tomorrow Zachariah would realize how important she was and turn her to dust with a snap of his fingers.

Selfish. That's what his brother told him to be.

And maybe that's what he was being. Fuck the world, save Chloe.

Some day, probably sooner than later, he might just meet her up there in heaven. If the big douche in the sky thought he still fit there.

_You and I, right or wrong, there's no other one,_

_After this time I spent alone,_

_It's hard to believe that a man with sight could be so blind,_

_Thinkin' 'bout the better times,_

_Must've been outta my mind,_

_So I'm runnin' back to tell you…_

_All that I'm after is a life full of laughter,_

_Without you God knows what I'd do, yeah…_

And what was he suppose to do now anyway? No Cas, no God, just him, Sammy and Bobby and no idea of how to kill the goddamn devil. That promise of utopia in heaven was sounding a lot better. Just a simple yes, hand his body over to Michael's discretion and fingers crossed it didn't go sour. And what would he get for that? No more blood on his hands, no more cries for help, no more demons to slay or devils to track or ring bullshit. And what was he, anyway? Fuckin' Frodo? No. He wasn't. He was just a screwed up kid who grew up with an obsessed dad, out to do right by a wife he hadn't when she was alive. He was just running on revenge and dashed hopes and the want for the end already.

And now the only good thing he had left was out there alone and he was the one who put her there. His foot fidgeted, fingers itching to reach down and hit the turn signal.

 _Pull over, turn around, go back!_ His head screamed. Apologize, get down on his damn knees and kiss her feet. Hell, whatever it took.

But there was more than just an apology for walking away. What else did he have to do? Say sorry ahead of time for knowing she was gonna get herself killed? For knowing he was about to drag her through the ringer and there was nothing he could do to stop it? This was better. This was… This was knowing that she was elsewhere, she was away from him and all his toxic bullshit. The farther away from the Winchesters Chloe Sullivan was, the less likely she'd be to get herself killed.

And that was what mattered, didn't it? Maybe he was selfish. Maybe he just didn't want to know her death was his fault and this way it couldn't be… This way, he had no hand in it. He'd sent her to safety and if she got herself killed, it had nothing to do with him. She was better off without him anyway. He had nothing to offer her but more death and drama. Shit, if he could leave himself, he would.

_All that I'm after is a life full of laughter,_

_As long as I'm laughin' with you,_

_I'm thinkin' 'bout all that still matters is love ever after,_

_After the life we've been through, yeah,_

_Know there's no life after you_ …

But maybe… if God was feeling less douchy than usual, he'd give him a little reprieve in the end. Maybe Michael would be forgiving and let him live it out on some sandy beach somewhere, with Chloe in a bikini… or nothing at all… and they could forget all of this, start from scratch. Just laugh away their afterlives, sink into oblivion with nothing but each other to hold onto. He could get into that, maybe. He could drown himself in her until he didn't see bloody faces and pleading friends, until he didn't hear his mom telling him, over and over, that she never loved him, that nobody could. It'd just be him and Chloe, her smiling face, her soft hands touching him, tracing his face, gentle like she'd never known anything quite so important to her.

There'd be no hurt, no pain, just… just _love_. All that he missed out on, all that he pretended he didn't need, and maybe that would be enough.

Maybe.

_Know there's no life after you,_

_Know there's no life after you,_

_Know there's no life after you,_

_Know there's no life after you,_

_Know there's no life after you,_

_Know there's no life after you,_

_Know there's no life after you,_ _yeah_ …

Until then though…

Hell.

Reaching over, he snapped the radio off and rubbed his temples, wishing the headache forming _wouldn't_.

He'd just have to muddle through.

…

Chloe stared out the window of the Queen jet, watching as the sun played over clouds, how it lit up so ethereally as if God's fingers were reaching for her, telling her it would all be okay. She scoffed inwardly. She knew the truth. She knew that he was down there on Earth, ignoring their cries for help, their need for his support. Wiping at her face, she sighed, turned her gaze away and caught Oliver staring back at her. When Lois said she'd send the jet, she hadn't thought Oliver would be along for the ride.

"So, you wanna tell me why I'm picking you up in this podunk town rather than a sandy beach, five weeks early?"

Taking a deep breath, she hoped, "Can I _not_ and say I did?"

He cocked a brow. "Right, no, of course not," she muttered under her breath. "Okay… Where to start…" Chewing her lip, she leaned back in her seat, tucking her feet up beneath her. "You know how weird things are always happening to me and I have an insatiable appetite for figuring them out rather than leaving well enough alone?"

He blinked. "Yes…"

"Well…" She winced. "I know you said to take a break, find myself and just… just relax or whatever, but…" Raising a hand, she rubbed her forehead. "But I found myself driving _away_ from sandy beaches and crashing waves and the fun of pina coladas in favor of, well, _destiny_."

Brows furrowing, he leaned forward. "Destiny?"

Licking her lips, she frowned. "Promise not to sign me up for a straitjacket and I will tell you the need-to-know exploits of this Girl Friday's not-so-relaxing vacation…"

Intrigued, he nodded. "Cross my heart."

Sighing, she readied herself for the tale, "So the first week, let's just say it involved a lot of butt-cramping driving, which when I look back on now probably sounds better than zombies, apocalypses and stupid soul mates that should trust in me rather than assume I can't handle more than any regular Jane Doe…" With a deep breath, she let it all out. From weird chest aches to angels to her abnormally intense attraction to Dean and then to her latest foray in heartbreak.

He stared at her, agape, blinking rapidly as he tried to come up with the right words but then he'd stop himself, wave a hand as if erasing his last thought and start over. "Okay…" Clearing his throat, he narrowed his eyes at her. "I know I promised you no straitjacket, but…"

She rolled her eyes. "I know. I _know_ how crazy this sounds, okay? But come on, Ollie. I mean we deal with aliens and bald billionaires that play doctor in their high tech basements. Is this so surreal?" She stared at him searchingly. "That there are angels and God and Lucifer out there too. With all the bad and good, is it so unbelievable that there's this?"

Pursing his lips, he shook his head. "No, I guess not…"

"Right, so… So I was part of it, for awhile, until…" She blew out an irritated breath. "Until I was voted out of the club..."

He frowned. "I wouldn't say he voted you out, Chloe… More like turned you away for your own good."

"What?" Brows furrowed, she crossed her arms tightly. "You're saying he was trying to be _self-righteous_?"

"I'm saying… If I were in his position, with the apocalypse hanging over my head and the woman I'd just realized was my entire life was standing there next to me…" He shrugged. "I'd want her as far away from danger as I could get her."

"No…" Shaking her head violently, she sputtered, "N-No! That's just _stupid!_ That's… That's…" Jaw clenching, she scoffed. "It's just like him. Oh, I'm gonna _kill_ him… Right after I save his stupid ass."

Oliver lifted a confused brow. "Huh?"

Standing up, she began pacing. "If he thinks he's gonna keep me out of this fight, he's got another thing coming…"

"Chloe… Not to rain on your hero-party, but…" He stared at her seriously. "I think this guy might just be right."

Whirling around, she glared at him. "Excuse me?"

Sighing, he stood to meet her fierce expression. "What he deals with is not like what we do… He's better equipped to handle it. And even if you could get in there, should he be looking out for you or focused on… _Lucifer?_ "

"I'm not going in half-cocked expecting him to watch my back. I'm _asking_ him to trust that I will do whatever I can to stay safe but that I _won't_ simply sit back and let this happen!" Stepping forward, she shook her head up at him. "I was Watchtower for you for a long time; I know what I'm doing. I may not have jumped into the fight, but I was watching over you guys every step of the way. Do you honestly think I won't prepare myself for this just as carefully?"

Exhaling heavily, he shook his head. "No…" Reaching out, he put his hands on her shoulder. "But if you think I'm letting you out there on your own… you're crazy."

"Of course not…" She grinned cheekily. "I'll need your money and connections to get me right back into the middle of this mess…"

He smirked back. "Yeah, well, that's not all you're getting, Tower. If hell's come knocking, you better believe that I'm not letting anybody on my team walk away without a little help…" He stared at her knowingly. "Even if this'll be the last mission we ever run together."

Biting her lip, her chin tilted down. "Ollie… I love working as Watchtower, but…"

"Destiny has other plans," he said, nodding. "I always knew you were meant for great things, Chloe. I just hoped they'd involve the Justice League."

She half-smiled. "All things considered, I think you can take it from here."

"So where do we start?"

"Weather patterns," she said simply. "Where there's trouble… there's Winchesters."

…

"You _do_ know she's not going to suddenly appear out of thin air, right?" Sam asked, sitting on his bed with a pissy expression.

"Yeah, and?" Dean muttered back, laying sprawled on his bed with an arm tucked behind his head.

"And you're leaving her side of the bed free…"

Jaw ticking, Dean through his arm out to right. "That better, Dr. Phil? Or did you wanna tell me what _else_ I'm doin' wrong by just breathing?"

"Well… Since you already know _what_ you did wrong, maybe making it _right_ would make you feel better." Crossing his arms over his chest, he lifted a brow. "You've got her cell number plugged into your phone… Least you could do is make sure she's okay."

"She's fine," he replied, closing his eyes and feigning indifference.

"So there's no chance maybe a couple demons picked her up as soon as they realized she wasn't being watched over by her favorite guard dog…" And there's not even the _smallest_ possibility that Zachariah came looking for your girlfriend to play keep away with until you said yes? And, _oh,_ right… It's not like we had two hunters try and gank us, promising to kill her too just to be sure…"

Letting out a shaky breath, Dean rubbed his chest, his jaw clenching tightly. "There any way I can get you to leave this alone?"

"No."

"Right. Didn't think so." Climbing off the bed, he reached over and grabbed up his jacket. "'m goin' for a walk."

"Dean…" Sam sighed.

"No. Listen…" Turning away, Dean stared at him. "You think I wanted to break her heart and send her packin'? Cause I didn't." He threw his arms out. "Ya happy now? I didn't want to." Frowning, he shook his head. "But I did. And I'm really seriously hoping it was the right thing to do, because, _hell_ , Sam… If I'm the reason she gets killed…" He swallowed tightly, turning his eyes up to avoid how they burned. "I _cannot_ have her death on my hands. Okay?" Wiping a hand down his mouth, he turned away. "And if you could just _please_ leave this alone… _Please_."

Sam stared, regret welling up inside him. "Okay… Yeah… I-I'll drop it."

With a sharp nod, he turned, yanking open the door and walking out. And as it slammed behind him, Sam frowned. He just couldn't understand how his brother did it. Hurt himself day in and day out, all for the greater good of everybody else. When was he gonna learn? When was he gonna realize that he _deserved_ to have a little happiness for himself? Soon, Sam hoped, because he wasn't sure Dean could survive like this much longer.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XV.**

Demon Central. And they were getting their asses handed to them big time. Just him and Sammy rolled into town after finding some pretty big signs pointed in this direction, but didn't expect the welcoming committee to be quite this large. A little bruised and bloodied, they made way for the Impala, they just weren't equipped for this many. Speeding down the road at more than ninety, checking the mirror constantly, they raced away from the bastards out to roast them and put their heads on pikes.

Clutching a banged up arm to his chest, Sam panted, "Drive faster, Dean!"

"Can't," he growled in return.

Grunting in pain, Sam winced, almost smiling at their bad luck.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he sighed, "I'm gonna make it."

"You ever see that many?"

"No… Not all in one place."

"What the hell?" Swerving around a corner, the Impala's tires squealed. Trying to get control of the car after the abrupt change in direction, Dean's eyes widened when a wall of fire appeared in front of them. Slamming on the brakes with both booted feet, he looked to and fro at the metal and licking flames that were too high and too thick for him to just drive through. "Damnit," he cursed, before hitting reverse and turning his head over his shoulder to back up. Just as he'd turned sideways, however, a fist came flying through the window, yanking Sam out the window. They were being surrounded, attacked from all sides, and then water was being sprayed down from above and the demons were screaming in pain.

Holy water?

Through the haze of water, a searchlight sat atop a pick up truck, Dean thinned his eyes, trying to get a better view of their _saviors_. With a megaphone in hand, a man stepped up to start chanting Enochian. Not something heard by the usual townspeople. But wherever they learned it, it did the trick. The black smoke of demon escaped through their mouths and dead carcasses were left on the ground. Panting, Sam stared out the window wild-eyed.

And seeing the regular Joe's, hanging out by their truck, just staring back, Dean commented, "Well, that's not something you see every day."

Slack jawed, they both climbed out of the car.

"You two all right?" a gun-toting man asked, coming forward.

"Peachy," Dean panting, staring.

"Be careful, it's…" he warned, looking around at the mess, "dangerous around here." Turning, he meant to walk away.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait!" Dean called, closing his car door before circling to chase after him.

"No need to thank us," the man sighed.

"No, hold up a sec. Who are you?" he shouted.

"We're the sacrament Lutheran Militia."

Brows furrowed, Dean cocked his head. "I'm sorry, the _what?_ "

"I hate to tell you this but those were demons and this is the _apocalypse_ ," he said without mercy, "So… buckle up." He smiled emotionlessly.

Dean stared, brose lifting on his forehead.

Uh, yeah, but… How the hell'd _this_ guy know that?

Deciding these guys needed to know they weren't the average, Dean and Sam led them over to the trunk of the Impala, popping it open to show it bursting full of ammo, guns, crosses, every thing a hunter could ever need. Except a How To guide on ending the apocalypse, of course.

"Looks like we're in the same line of business…" Sam told them.

"Yeah, and among colleagues," Dean added, "That's a police issued shotgun," he noted, motioning, "And that truck is, uh, _expired_." Brows knit, he asked, "Where'd you guys pick up all this crap?"

"Ya know, ya…" another man said, shrugging, "pick stuff up on the way."

The two men next to him smiled, as if they knew something more.

Guys, come on, this whole corner of the state is _nuts_ with demon omens. We just wanna help, that's all," Dean offered.

"We're all on the same team here," Sam added, "Just talk to us."

The three men looked at each other, considered, and then nodded. The first man, bearded and apparently in charge decided, "Follow us."

Not long later, they were following the beat up red pick-up truck into town, where fog had rolled in eerily. Cement blocks lined the streets, barbed wire hung around fence tops, and gun-toting guards walked the grounds, watching, wary. Stopping in front of the church, the Impala pulled in right behind their new-found comrades in war. Following them down the path toward the church, they stepped across a red-painted sign on the ground, a keep-out to all demons. Stepping through the doors, they fanned out along the back walls, looking around curiously.

"Who'd have thought the apocalypse could be so romantic?" the minister at the front wondered, holding a bible in hand as a couple stood before him.

Sam's brows furrowed as he looked around at the many guests, guns in each hand along the aisle.

"Marriage, family, it's a blessing. Especially in times like this." He paused. "So hold onto them."

Dean blinked.

"Wedding?" Sam whispered to him incredulously. " _Seriously?_ "

"Yep," a voice said from next to them, the dark-skinned man who'd helped them out of the jam earlier. Paul, he said his name was. "We've had eight so far this week."

Sighing, Sam shook his head. "Bet it'd be nine if Chloe were here."

Dean glared at his brother, who shrugged but said no more."

Surprised, the boys only stared forward.

Moments later, when the happy couple were walking out for all to cheer, Dean and Sam watched from afar.

"So…" a calm voice said from their left, "Rob tells me you boys hunt demons."

The minister.

They turned toward him, with Sam exhaling heavily. "Uh, yes sir…"

Struggling for words but finding none, Dean just shrugged, nodded, and then caught sight of the gun strapped to the man's thigh.

"You missed a few," the minister said casually, even smiling up at them.

"Hah," Sam said, rolling his eyes, "Yeah, tell us about it." He glanced at Dean and then back to the minister wonderingly, "Any idea why they're here?"

He shook his head. "Sure seem to like us though."

Skeptical and naturally suspicious, Dean just nodded, watching him.

Taking a deep breath, the minister finally said, "Follow me, gentlemen."

Seeing no harm in finding out what he offered, they followed him back inside the church, and downstairs. "So, you're a preacher, huh?" Dean asked.

"Not what you were expected, huh?"

"Well, dude, you're _packing_."

"Strange times…" he said simply before pushing a pair of doors open.

Following him inside, there were lines of tables, all surrounded by people of various ages. Packing rock salt bullets, cleaning guns, whatever they could.

"Is that a twelve-year-old packing salt rounds?" Dean asked, frowning.

"Everybody pitches in," the preacher told them, glancing back over his shoulder.

"So… The whole church?" Sam asked.

"The whole town."

"A whole town full of hunters? I dunno whether to run screaming or buy a condo," Dean snorted, looking around at everybody.

"Well the demons were killing us, so we had to do something."

"So why not call the national guard?" Sam wondered, brows furrowed.

He shrugged. "We were told not to."

"By _who?_ "

He stared at them, stretched his shoulders, uncomfortable with the answer and so stayed silent.

"Come on, Padre. You're as locked and loaded as we've ever seen. "And that exorcism was Enochian, someone's tellin' you somethin' ." Dean cocked a brow, impatient.

Mouth opened and closing, he ducked his head. "Look, I'm sorry, I-I…" He looked up. "I can't discuss it."

"Dad, it's okay," a gentle voice called out, drawing their attention.

"Leah," he said warningly.

Dean and Sam turned to see a sweet woman, her brown hair curled, looking up at them without any fear or confusion. "It's Sam and Dean Winchester," she said, knowingly. "They're safe."

Curious, their brows furrowed wonderingly.

"I know all about them," she said, smiling.

"You _do?_ " Dean asked, glancing at Sam.

"Sure." She stared. "From the angels."

"The angels," he sighed. "Awesome."

"Don't worry, they can't see you here," she soothed. "The… marks on your ribs?" She motioned to her own. "Right?"

He looked back at her, brow knotting, suspicions raised.

"So you know all about us because… _angels_ told you?" Sam asked, staring at her curiously.

"Yes," she said with an easy bob of her head, smiling. "Among other things."

Dean smirked. "Like the snappy little exorcism spell…"

" _And_ they show me where the demons are going to be before it happens. How to fight back."

"Never been wrong," the preacher said proudly, walking around them to stroke her hair. "Not once. Very special."

"Dad…" Leah sighed, rolling her eyes but smiling.

"And let me guess… Before you see something… you get a real bad migraine, you see flashing lights?"

"How'd you know?" she wondered quietly.

He cocked his head. "'Cause you're not the first prophet we've met."

Remembering Chuck, Dean wondered what their old dramatic, life-story-telling buddy was up to lately. He decided he was probably writing out each apocalyptic scene morosely, knocking back a few bottles of bourbon, and simultaneously trying to find an escort service that would load him up with some loving. Yeah, he grinned to himself, that's the kind of prophet he was used to. Not this laced up, golden-girl, church-goer girl. Although, she did better fit the image he'd once had, before meeting Chuck Shurley.

…

Chloe was in full Watchtower mode, her fingers typing faster than the eye could see before she'd step back, turn, reached for another computer, zoom in, shake her head, and move on. City after city, town after town, all over North America, she looked for the signs. Bizarre weather patterns, mysterious deaths, anything that might scream Apocalypse Now. The problem was that it was everywhere; the danger was spreading every day. Lucifer's murderous fingers were reaching across the globe, snuffing out life everywhere they went. And Dean and Sam were out there somewhere, trying to track him down. But where… where were they?

With a sigh, she rubbed her furrowed brow and took a step back, trying to see the bigger picture, trying to zero in on whatever it was she was missing.

She should be sleeping. But she couldn't, she couldn't walk away from this or pretend it wasn't happening or leave it in Dean's hands. He was capable, of course, but he was also losing faith every moment that passed. She'd seen how close he was to defeat the moment she met him, she'd also seen how he was lighting up, how different he was when it was just the two of them. How making him laugh erased the hardship of his life. But he wouldn't laugh now, she knew. He would bottle it and he would hide it, stuff it down until he was just barely making it through.

"Idiot," she muttered under her breath, with the kind of affection he probably didn't deserve.

She wondered when it was that duty had become something more. When the attraction between them and built into something deeper, for her at least. She wasn't deluding herself into believing his feelings followed the same track, but she knew her own. She knew what it meant when her heart skipped a beat just because she woke up to find him there, holding her. She knew what it meant when his simple touches, a hand at the small of her back or his finger tucking her hair behind her ear, made her stomach flutter. There was anticipation for ever word he spoke, every thing he did, and it wasn't idealistic. She knew Dean; the real him. She didn't see a hero in shining armor, she saw the chinks in that suit of steel. He was flawed and tired and on the verge of complete defeat.

And it wasn't just the attraction that held her attention, though the man certainly held a deeply erotic appeal. It was more than how he could kiss or touch or how very adequate he was at lovemaking without even having to shed his pants. It was the way he looked at her, listened to her, and even the way he touched her. Not just because he was attracted but because he wanted to, even needed to. A brush of his fingers at the nape of her neck, along the slope of her cheek… Rough fingers, soft touch. Sometimes, he just looked _enthralled_ with her. Like she could do no bad. She knew it was just the opposite though and he obviously didn't really _think_ that way, since they argued enough for an old married couple. Which she liked. She laughed absurdly at the thought. But she really _liked_ that they could argue and he could bluster and in the end they'd each have their own opinion and what had to be done would be done. But he still listened, still learned, even if he didn't always agree. And maybe he even paused in his own actions, reconsidered, listened to her. What mattered was that she was there, to give that opinion, to help him decide.

But not anymore.

Now he was out there with Sam and they were fighting this thing, just the two of them, and she knew… She _knew_ that he was on the verge of handing in the sawed off and just calling it quits. And it physically pained her to know that. Not because she didn't agree or because she felt he was doing the wrong thing. But because she knew that Dean would never forgive himself. If, _when_ , he picked that faith up that he'd lost awhile back, and he realized the choice he made, he'd regret it. Be that here on earth or in heaven or whatever would become of him. And if there was one man who needed no more regrets, who deserved no more sorrow, it was him. She just wished she could be there to tell him that, to help him through it all.

She wasn't though, and she had to accept that.

Accepting it and doing nothing about it, however, were two very different things.

And so she worked, she toiled away with information and Intel until her head spun with it, until her eyes burned from staring so intensely at screens. She would find him, she would help him, even if she had to do it all from afar, in the background. She would do whatever was necessary.

…

Standing in a bar, the music loud and heavy, Sam plugged one ear as he waited for Cas' voice mail to answer.

" _You've reached the voicemail of—_ " the female recording began, cut off with a beep.

Cas's voice filled his ears then, "I don't understand. Wh-Why do you want me to say my name?" The sound of buttons being pushed followed and then his recording ended.

Sam's brows screwed up. With a laugh, he shook his head, "Cas, hey, uh, it's me…" he sighed, "So, we're in Blue Earth, Minnesota and, uh, we could use a little help. I… hope you get this." Frowning, unsure, he hung up.

"Busy night," he said to the bartender, Paul, from the night before.

"I'm tellin' ya, since the end started it's been like one long last call." Tapping the bar, he nodded toward the two beers, "That round's on me."

"Thanks," Sam said, grabbing up their drinks and walking over to the table Dean was sitting at.

"So?" Dean asked, "Ya get a hold of Cas?"

Sam took a drag of his beer, nodding. "Yeah, I left him a message… I think. So, uh, what's your theory? Why all the demon hits?"

"I dunno." Turning his face away, he frowned, watching the other patrons come and go for their liquor. "Gank a girl-prophet, maybe?"

Frowning, he shook his head.

Dean pursed his lips. "What?"

"Just, these _angels_ are getting these _people_ do their dirty work," he said, forehead wrinkled.

Sighing, he looked away, considered. "Yeah? And?" Taking another gulp of his beer, he looked aloof, uncaring.

"And they could get ripped to shreds," Sam reminded pointedly.

Taking a breath, Dean stared at him seriously, eyes-wide. "We're all gonna _die_ , Sam. In like a _month_ , maybe two, and I mean it."

Sam licked his lips, leaned back, surprised.

"I mean this is the end of the _world_ …" He cocked a brow. "But these people aren't freakin' out. In fact…" He turned his eyes away, motioning with his hand, "They're _running_ to the exits in a…an orderly fashion." He paused, stared and then shook his head, leaning up, lifting his arms from their place on the table. "I dunno if that's such a bad thing."

Sam nodded slowly, upset. "Who says they're all gonna die?"

Dean paused in raising his beer to his mouth, licking the inside of his lips.

"Whatever happened to us saving them?" He swallowed tightly.

Dean's eyes fell, but before he could say anything, a bell began tolling in the background and patrons of the bar rose quickly to answer. Looking around, the two brothers were confused.

"Somethin' I said?" Dean wondered, brows lifted.

"Paul," Sam called out, getting his attention and lifting his hand questioningly. "What's goin on?"

Passing them by, he leaned over and said, "Leah's had another vision."

He watched them all go before turning to his brother, raising a slight brow. "Wanna go to church?"

"You know me…" He smirked humorlessly. "Down right pious." Taking a long drag of his beer, he left it there on the counter.

…

While Sam and Dean went from church to demon hunting, a whole town of new hunters at their backs, Chloe was still at work.

It was 3 am and she was beyond tired. She honestly couldn't say the last time she'd laid down and just rested was. Whenever she'd last seen Dean, she knew. But when was that? Yesterday? The day before? Time had blurred together. It didn't slow her down in her work, however.

"I need coffee…" Sighing, she turned around, walked toward the kitchen and reached for the near-empty pot. After pouring herself a mug, she got the next pot ready. She wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon; she might as well stock up.

There was sudden breeze at her back and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose. Heart thumping, she glanced at the wooden knife holder, fingers flexing, wondering if she'd have time to reach for them.

"Chloe Sullivan," a deep monotone voice said and her shoulders fell.

Turning around quickly, she stared incredulously at the angel. "Cas?"

Brows furrowed, he looked around. "Where are Dean and Sam?"

She cocked a brow. "Well, now that you're here, I was hoping you could tell me." Crossing her arms, she stared at him curiously, "Speaking of… What _are_ you doing here?"

He swayed slightly. "I had to be somewhere."

"Right, that's… logical."

"Sam left a message. He needed help and so…" He waved his hands around him.

"And I guess a drunk you is better than _no_ you?" she replied snarkily.

He licked his dry lips and then stared at her blearily, before taking a wobbly step forward and frowning. He raised a finger in her direction and then said firmly, "You and Dean aren't supposed to separate."

"Yeah, well, tell that to _him_ ," she muttered, before cocking her head to the side. "Are you feeling okay? You don't look so good."

"I'm not good… I'm…" He shook his head. "I'm suffering from a crisis of faith."

Smiling sadly, she nodded. "Some dad's just aren't cut out for parenting…"

He sighed loudly, stumbled back and leaned against the counter, staring at the floor. "But he was the ultimate father. Shouldn't he set the example? He expected full cooperation, total understanding and yet… He walks away in the most dire of times."

Reaching out, Chloe squeezed his shoulder. "You know… When I was little and just learned to ride my bike, my dad stuck with me through the first few seconds, holding me steady, but when he thought I knew what I was doing… he let go."

Castiel turned, stared at her dubiously. "Did you fall?"

She laughed. "Yes. Scraped my knee up pretty bad too."

"Then shouldn't he have held on? A good father would have held on."

"No." She shook her head, sighing. "No, he did the right thing. What was a scraped knee compared to knowing I'd get back up and on that bike and master it…? To knowing that he could give me this freedom and I would do what needed to be done? Just keep moving." Smiling lightly, she nodded, "Fall down, get back up, repeat."

"I don't like your analogy," he told her simply. "God was meant to stand by us in our times of need. To help us through."

"And if his version of help isn't the same as ours?"

Cas turned away, frowning, and then tried to walk away, only to stumble and reach for the counter top.

"Just how _drunk_ are you?" she wondered, eyes wide. "I didn't even know angels _could_ drink."

"Very," he replied, letting her lead him to a chair, when he plopped down unceremoniously.

Shaking her head, she walked back to the coffee pot and poured a steaming black cup, placing it down in front of him. "Drink up."

He stared at it suspiciously but finally lifted it to his lips and guzzled it in one long gulp.

"Ah…" Eyes wide, she waited until he'd stopped. "It's _hot!_ "

"Yes," he replied. "I would like another."

Snorting, she took his mug. "All right, but… just so you know, we all pay for our _own_ coffee addiction. This is a one-night freebie." Pouring another mug, she passed it over and sat down.

Seeing that she drank hers slower, he tried to mimic it, taking only a short gulp before placing it back down on the table. "You never said why you and Dean were separated. Mated couples are not meant to be apart."

"Thanks for the newsflash, Angel-boy, but it wasn't really my choice." Leaning back in her seat, she pursed her lip. "He's on another of his save-others-sacrifice-self missions and I was sent packing."

Castiel stared, brows furrowed. "That is not part of the plan."

"I thought you said the plan would unfurl as we went… as it was _meant_ to."

He pursed his lips. "The plan was to get God's help and defeat Lucifer… That didn't work out either."

Elbows on the table, Chloe held her chin atop her palm. "So what now, then?"

"Lucifer and Michael will war, innocent people will die, and at best, Michael will win… At worst…"

"Lucifer does," she murmured, eyes falling to the tabletop. "This middle ground stuff is kind of epically important, huh?"

He simply stared at her.

"You never really explained to us… how I was supposed to help Dean win this war…" She frowned. "I mean my _heart_ doesn't exactly sum it up."

"To tell you what it means is to interfere with the natural order of the plan."

She glared. "Even drunk you can't loosen your lips and let it all out?"

"Does it matter how?" He tipped his head questioningly. "It is your destiny to be by his side through this."

"But why?" She shook her head. "He doesn't want me there; he doesn't need another person to look out for… I'll just be in the way."

Castiel frowned. "There is too much emotion involved on earth. In heaven, we follow our orders, we do what's right, and we don't question it."

"Hate to break it to you, Cas. But you're not in heaven and I'm no angel."

He nodded. "No… Most of the angels I've met are assbutts anyway."

"Assbutts?" she laughed. "You've been spending a lot of time with the Winchesters, huh?"

His brows furrowed. "Dean thinks I need to work on my insult skills."

Grinning, she lifted a shoulder. "I dunno… Assbutt is pretty mean."

He looked almost worried and so she reached out, touched his hand, amused when he simply looked at it in confusion.

"I haven't met many angels, Cas… In fact, you may be the only one. But… I have a feeling you're my favorite."

He blinked. "Of all the woman Dean's had sexual relations, I think you may be my favorite too."

She snorted. "Well, that's… nice to know."

"Is there more of this hot liquid?"

"Coffee," she clarified and stood. "And sure…" Walking back to the counter, she just took the whole pot with her, laying it down on a potholder in the middle of the table. She had a feeling he was going to drink a lot of it.

"You know… Cream and sugar are usually added to give it a little less bite." Turning back to the counter, she reached for the one liter of 18% and the jar of sugar, but when she turned back around, Castiel was missing. And so was her coffee pot.

Growling, she rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You could've at least left me the pot!"

She got no reply.

But… It was good she kept a spare under the counter for emergencies. Just in case her coffee maker ever broke, of course.

Addicted? Just a little.

…

A funeral.

Damn, but he hated these things.

He couldn't exactly walk away though since it was partly his fault that Dylan had been killed in the first place. Kid asked for a ride, they stupidly said yes, mostly in thanks for him saving Dean's ass, _twice_ , and after a beer was tossed in his direction, he'd hardly had a sip before a demon had pulled him under the car by his ankles and ate through his neck like a turkey leg on Thanksgiving. So now here they were, standing just outside the church doors as Dylan's casket was laid down at the front and his parents, huddled together, walked past to them inside.

"We're just, uh, very sorry," Dean told them.

"You know…" Dylan's mother sneered, glaring up at him through wet, mascara smeared eyes, "this is _your fault_."

"Jane," her husband Rob murmured.

Letting out a shaky sigh, she continued to bore her dark eyes into Dean, silently wishing him dead.

Unable to say anything and feeling the weight of it bare down heavy on his shoulders, he only glanced at Sam and then followed the couple inside the church.

Pastor Gideon stood at the front, staring sorrowfully down at the blue-lipped and pale visage of Dylan, where he lay still, his arms crossed atop his chest.

Turning slowly to survey the crowded church, sniffling heard abundantly, he clasped his hands together. "I wish I knew what to say," he began, clearing his throat of emotion, "But I don't." He turned to look at Dylan's parents, holding each other in mourning, the light softly falling through the windows to highlight him as he took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry… Jane… Rob…"

Face screwed up, Jane stared at the floor, struggling for breath as she sniffled.

"There are no… words…" the pastor continued. "Dylan… I don't know why this happened." He parted his hand, palms up as if in apology, "I don't know why… _any_ of this is happening." Clasping his fingers once more, his thumb moved back and forth along his hand, trying to comfort himself. "I got no easy answers." Bowing his head, he added, "But what I do know is—"

He wasn't able to continue as his daughter, Leah, suddenly collapsed on the floor in the center of the aisle, shaking, gasping for breath, struggling to sit up while her dad knelt, trying to help her.

Eyes wide, she blurted, "Dad, it's _Dylan!_ "

"Just rest a minute, huh?" Pastor Gideon told her gently.

"No, listen…" she exclaimed, "Dylan's coming back."

The church broke out in whispers of, "What?" and "What did she just say?"

It took her a few moments but eventually Leah gathered her strength, her calm exterior and stepped up in front of the church full of mourners to speak to them of what she'd seen. Hands clasped at her waist, she turned to his parents first. "Jane, Rob…" she said, half-smiling, "it's going to be okay. You'll see Dylan again." She paused, tilting her head soothingly. "When the final day comes, _judgment day_ , he'll be resurrected and you'll be together again."

In answer, Rob ducked his head, while Jane stared up at her hopefully.

"We'll all be together," she assured. "With all our loved ones." Looking around at the many people, she told them, "We've been chosen." She grinned widely. "The angels have chosen us and we _will_ be given paradise on earth." She stared seriously then. "All we have to do… is follow the angel's commandments."

Amongst the crowds was more whispering and a nodding, believing Jane next to her smiling husband.

…

Chloe was pacing. She knew picking up that phone would go one of two ways, but she just couldn't force herself to do it. She'd started dialing only to hang up. The not-knowing was eating at her. There were so many options to pick from; too many for her to narrow down. All she had to do was call, just dial the eleven-digit long-distance number and get it over with. Hopping back and forth, she grabbed up the phone and punched it in, only to curse and hang up.

"What are you doing?" a voice called out, startling her.

Nearly falling over, Chloe whirled around to see Victor staring back at her.

"And aren't you supposed to be somewhere sunnier? Drinking margaritas and making a fool of yourself for the hell of it?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

She sighed. "I'd ask how you got past my security measures but you're… _you_ , so…"

He smirked.

"I'm trying to make a phone call," she admitted, chewing her lip.

"And it's taken twenty-four years for you to get _this_ far?"

She screwed up her face. "Har, har."

"Look, I'm not going to bug you for the details. If you wanted me to know, I'd know already. I just figured since Oliver was being extra-secretive, I might come by and see if you had anything to do with it. And now I know…" He shrugged lightly. "So? How can I help?"

"You can dial a number for me and _make_ me take the phone," she blurted, though she regretted it as soon as she did because she _knew_ he would do it.

He cocked a brow. "Number?"

Sighing, she told him.

"Phone."

She handed it over and then stood pacing, chewing her nails, regretting it with every passing moment.

"I changed my mind! Hang up!" she exclaimed.

He ignored her.

"Victor, please!"

He shook his head, holding the phone out of her reach and then—"Hello? Just a second."

He held the phone aloft to her but she stood, staring wide-eyed.

"Chloe," he ordered, "Take the phone."

"Chloe?" a crackly voice came through the receiver.

With a sigh, she glared at Vic even as she smiled thankfully, and then took the phone from his outstretched hand. "Uh, yes, hi, um…" She swallowed tightly. "Long time no talk, Bobby… How's the war going?"

"Thought they ditched your ass," Bobby grunted into the phone.

"Nice way of putting it," she replied on a sigh. "Look, I know we don't see eye-to-eye and you can _not_ trust me as much as you want, but… I just want to help them."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "Like I ain't heard that before."

"What is it going to take for you to realize that I _only_ want them to be okay?" she exclaimed. "That I want this war over with as much as you?"

"How 'bout a lifetime of sufferin' through it!" he snapped back.

"Well, that's not really doable, okay?" Rubbing her forehead, she felt a headache coming on. "I may not have lived through your level of weird, but trust me, I'm not amateur when it comes to this stuff. So yes, I'm new at this and I haven't had to _kill_ my wife, _twice_ , but I did have to see my husband killed by a monster I _thought_ was just a good man, trapped inside something else, a _monster_ I helped survive! So I've _suffered_ , I've fought, and I continue to, every day. And you know what?" She laughed humorlessly. "For the first time, I actually thought maybe, just _maybe_ I'd found a place I fit." Chin wobbling, she shook her head. "It's not paradise, in fact it's promising to be a worse hell than I've ever known, but it's _mine_. He can deny it all he wants, he can shove me away until he's blue in the face, but if he thinks I'm just gonna throw in the towel because he's got his hero-hat on, screw that!"

There was a long, tense pause before Bobby sighed. "Cry me a river, sister."

And he hung up.

Chloe stared at the phone, angry. No, beyond that. She was _pissed!_

This time, she didn't need Victor to dial for her. This time, she snapped each number in hard enough she nearly broke the damn phone.

"Yeah!" he growled into the receiver.

"Listen to me very closely, Bobby Singer!" she shouted. "You can either help me help them, or I can do this on my own. I've got enough satellites on this planet that I can zero in on whether you've got _heartburn_ right now!" Taking a deep breath, she paced toward the screens of her Watchtower set-up. "Now… I've got weird weather patterns in almost every state, but the most likely is Minnesota. Hot or cold, Bobby?" she asked darkly. "Gimme a sign."

He didn't reply right away, in fact for a second she thought he might've hung up on her. Again.

"Hot," he finally growled.

"Okay, good… The worst of which is around…" Her eyes zeroed in, followed by her finger as she zoomed in on, "Faribault County?"

"Hotter."

She smiled to herself before focusing once more. "Right, there's a lightening storm in Bricelyn…"

"Cold."

Chloe frowned, searching over her maps, her weather stats, and her constantly changing information. "Brush Creek's got—"

"Colder."

She sighed. "Temperature drop in East—" She cut herself off. "Wait… Wait, Blue Earth is… off the radar. It's rising and falling like crazy."

"Ding, ding, ding," Bobby said unenthusiastically. "But I'll warn ya now, you go in there and they'll kick your ass right out."

Jaw clenching, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm aware."

"Yeah, then what d'you plan to do about it?"

Arm crossed over her chest, she glared. "Keep them safe as best I can from where I'm sitting."

He snorted. "Yeah? That your master plan, then? You gonna send in your leather-clad cavalry when you think the shit's gettin' too thick for 'em?"

Eyes widening, she struggled for a reply.

"You think I didn't know?" he replied, amused. "You got a _lot_ to learn about me, Sully. Those boys are the only family _I got_ , you think I was gonna let you lay down with 'em if I wasn't sure you were safe?"

Turning around, she stared worriedly at her surroundings. What could this mean? What could it _do_ to her team?

"I'm not planning a damn press release," he growled, drawing her attention. "But I damn well _will_ if you manage to screw this up!"

Biting her lip, she shook her head. "Screw what up, exactly?"

"Look, you've only seen the tip of the iceberg but it ain't pretty. Seein' as you think you can handle it and wanna try your luck at this anyway…" He sighed. "I figure I might just give you a chance."

Brows raising, she cocked her head. "As in…?"

"As in, why don't you take that billionaire's fancy jet for another spin and plant yourself here at my place? Maybe those hacking skills of yours can come in handy… Seems I could use some help going through the old scripture anyway."

"Really?" she asked hopefully.

"Don't get your hopes too high, now. You so much as look at me wrong and I won't feel too bad about kickin' ya out!"

She chuckled lightly, for once actually appreciating Bobby's rough manner. "I can be there tomorrow. Day after, max."

"Good," he grumbled. "And Chloe…?"

"Yeah?"

"You'll drink the watered down beer and like it."

Before she could say anymore, he'd hung up on her.

Laughing, she shook her head.

So they weren't exactly friends but they were, at least, allies. And while they didn't always see eye-to-eye, she did know that Bobby Singer was the kind of ally worth having.

…

Stepping out of the church, Sam named them off with his fingers, walking side by side next to Dean. "No drinking, no gambling, no pre-marital sex." He chuckled. "It's lucky Chloe's _not_ here or you'd be outta here on two outta three." Smirking, he lifted a shoulder. "Either that or they'd be hosting the next Winchester wedding." Shaking his head, he clapped his brother's shoulder. "I mean, hell, they basically just outlawed ninety percent of your personality, Dean."

"Yeah, well, whatever… when in Rome," he muttered back.

Brows furrowed, Sam was confused. "So, uh… You're _cool_ with it?"

"I'm not cool. I'm not… _not_ cool. It's… Look man, I'm not a prophet. We're not locals…" He shook his head, uncaring. "It's not my call."

Sam turned his eyes away, at a loss for words.

Pursing his lips, Dean turned away and then waved at him, "I'll catch up with you." With that, he left Sam behind and made his way back into the church, searching around until he found Leah sprawled on a red velvet couch, her thumbs rubbing circles on her temples.

"This a bad time?" he asked, waiting.

Eyes opening, she glanced at the ceiling and then answered, "In general," before sitting up and smoothing her skirt down as she led her feet to the floor. "Now's okay."

Taking one last look out the door, he closed it before stepping further into the room, asking, "Angel stuff really takes it outta ya, huh?"

Smiling, she shook her head forgivingly. "Can't complain…" She stared at him. "I know you have it worse."

Eyes boring into her wonderingly, he took a seat in the brown leather chair across from her.

"So…" Leah played with her hands before her lap, fingers laced and thumb lifting along with her question, "What's on your mind, Dean?"

Taking a breath, he let it out on a stilted sigh. "Don't take this the wrong way," he told her, turning skeptical eyes in her direction, "But… are you on the level?" He swallowed, nodding slightly, wanting a real answer.

Eyes wide, she tipped her head up. "About what?"

He struggled, lips moving but no words until finally he said, "About paradise."

She smiled for his benefit. "What about it?"

He sighed, looked away. "I wanna know what the angels are tellin' you… Everything."

Drawing her back, her eyes closed as tight smile spread her lips. "Well… I…"

He shook his head. "And you can skip the rainbows."

"There's gonna be a prize fight," she admitted, nodding. "And… it's gonna get bad." She sighed. "But after we win and…" She smiled then, "we _will_. The planet gets handed over to The Chosen." She shook her head ever-so-slightly. "And… It's finally peaceful. No monsters, no disease, no _death_ … You're just… with the people you love…"

Letting out a small scoff, he cocked a brow. "'Course that's if you can get past the velvet rope." His jaw ticked. "Must be nice…" he sighed rather bitterly. "Being chosen."

She grinned. "Well, Dean, _you're_ chosen," she reminded, cocking her head.

He blew out a breath, pursed his lips. "Yeah… More like _cursed_." Licking his lips, he rose from his seat.

"Must be hard…" she murmured knowingly. "Being the vessel of heaven and… having no hope."

Dean stared back at her, his chest aching. He had it once, awhile back, and for awhile recently… 'Til he forced her out of his life, saying Sayonara and not looking back. He wondered if she was okay, wherever she was. If this same kind of paradise was going to be offered up to her. Because if it was just this town, just these people here, then he wondered if maybe he could get her here in time.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XVI**.

Sam walked into his motel room, swaying. After a little heart-to-heart with Paul, the now nearly-out-of-business bartender who wasn't exactly into the _holy rollers_ the townspeople had recently turned into, he'd gotten good and drunk. Stumbling, he turned to close and lock the door behind before turning to see Dean crack an eye and glance at him from his casual position on the bed. Still sleeping on the side closest to the door, Sam noted, leaving the other half open for a woman who wasn't even there anymore.

"Where you been?" Dean asked in his usual deep growl.

"Drinkin'," Sam sighed contently.

Dean chuckled, brows flicking up above his closed eyes. "You rebel."

"I'd have had more…" He rolled his sleeves up his forearms, clearing his throat. "But it was _curfew!_ "

Lifting a brow, Dean muttered, "Right."

"You hear they shut down the cell towers?"

"Well, that's, uh…" He rubbed his eyes tiredly before crossing his arms over his chest. "News to me."

"Yeah!" Sam scoffed. "No cable, internet…" He waved his hand. "Total cut-off from the," He raised his hands to put quotes around the following, "Corruption of the outside world."

"Huh."

He screwed up his face. "Don't you get it?" he asked incredulously, blowing out a sigh. "They're turning this place into some kinda fundamentalist compound."

"Oh, I get it," Dean muttered.

"And all you got's a 'Hm,'" he wondered, staring at him. "What's wrong with you?"

Shaking his head, Dean threw his legs over the side of the bed. "I get it, I just don't _care_."

" _What?_ "

Dean threw an arm up before smiling humorlessly, shaking his head. "What difference does it make?"

"It makes a helluva…" Sam scoffed. "At what point does this become _too far_ for you?" he wondered, crossing the room to take a seat on the bed opposite to Dean's. "Stoning, poison kool-aid," he listed off his fingers. "The _angels_ are toying with these people!"

Rubbing his eyes, Dean shook his head before lifting it to look at his brother, his hands held out, palms up. "Angel world, angel rules, man."

Looking around incredulously, Sam exclaimed, "And since when is that okay with you?"

"Since the angels got the only lifeboats on the Titanic," he snarked, standing from his bed. "I mean, who exactly is supposed to come along and save these people? It was s'posed to be us, but we can't do it!" He poured himself another mug of stale coffee.

Staring up at him, wide-eyed, Sam struggled for understanding. "So what, y-you wanna just stop fighting? Roll over?"

"I dunno… Maybe…" He sipped his coffee casually.

Sam licked his lips, angrily. "Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"You can't do this."

Dean snapped his lips. "Actually I can."

"No, you can't, you can't do this," he said, standing as his eyes blurred with tears, "to _me_."

He stared back, brows furrowed.

Looking away, Sam took in a shaky breath. "I got one thing. _One thing_ keepin' me goin'." He stared at him through narrowed eyes, "You think you're the only one white-knucklin' it here, Dean?" He paused, sighed. "I know you've been struggling since Chloe, but—"

"Don't," he growled warningly. "Don't bring her into this."

"She's part of it. A _huge_ part." He threw his hands up. "You think because you sent her away she's somehow safer now? You think this war isn't going to reach her in Metropolis?" He stared, baffled. "I've checked the news reports, Dean. It's as safe there as anywhere else. They've got demons, they've got lightening storms a-and temperature drops…" He snorted. "You turned her away because you were _scared._ Of her, o-of _you_ , of what you guys could be together, of what might need to be _sacrificed!_ "

"And _you_ would'a done the same damn thing!" Dean burst out.

"Yeah…" Sam sighed tiredly. "Yeah, I probably would. But I wouldn't turn my back on _you_. I wouldn't just leave it all in yours hands, okay?" He shook his head. "I can't _count_ on anyone else." He blew out a shaky breath. "And I can't do this alone."

Dean looked away and then down into his coffee mug before nodding, leaving it on the table behind him and walking away.

"Dean?"

"I'm gonna clear my head," he replied, grabbing up his jacket as he took off out the door.

"It's past curfew," Sam muttered in sad warning, repeating it back to himself even after the door closed.

…

Across town, Leah was tearfully telling the townspeople the angels were angry, that some of them weren't following the rules and so they wouldn't be given their paradise. There was only one option, of course. Get _rid_ of the sinners.

No idea this was happening, Dean walked down the road, his cell in hand, cursing as it showed up _No Signal_ no matter where he stood, where he drove. It was always the same. He could understand boycotting the _outside world_ , but hell, couldn't they have warned him first? He only had one damn phone call to make. He just needed to check on her, just make sure she was okay. And maybe… maybe he'd tell her to come down and meet him, maybe their paradise could start out here, in Blue Earth, Minnesota. He had a free pass, _sort've_. They'd kill a few demons, hang around until the end, and let Leah's paradise come for them.

Not for the first time, he wondered what his and Chloe's would be like. If they stayed on earth, if it was all free of monsters and disease and all the bull he'd been dealing with all his life, what then? They'd get a house, a dog, raise 3.5 and live happily ever after? Some apple-pie life, just him and her? His throat tightened. Damn, but he kinda wanted that. He could handle it if he knew… If there was a certainty that there was nothing left out there. If his _duty_ was over. And he'd lay her down on that bed and he'd show her, God would he _show her,_ everything she'd come to mean to him, everything he wanted them to be together.

His eyes burned, frustration welling in his throat when he tried her number again, fruitlessly. There was no cell tower, no chance in hell he was gonna get through but he wanted to, _needed_ to. His chest had been burning since he walked away from her, his whole body feeling heavy with the loss. At night, he reached for her and came up empty. And when he closed his eyes, he dreamt of her. From the sweetness of her laugh to the hot, _hot_ heat between her thighs, melting all around him as he was finally deep inside her, thrusting, filling, _having_ all of her. And her kiss, soft against his mouth, even soothing. But then he'd wake up, hard and aching and full of remorse as he found a dark motel room with nothing but his snoring brother in it. There was no red duffel bag next to his, no soft body laying close to his, hogging the covers and absorbing all his heat. No face buried in his chest, even breath skittering across his skin.

He missed the smell of her, the way she rolled her eyes, how she was always snarking back at him as if she had an answer to every damn thing he said. How her fingers feathered through his hair, lingering on his neck. How she leaned into him when they stood together, how his hand always found hers. And damn it, he didn't care what kind of paradise Leah was talking about, if Chloe wasn't in it, then it was no paradise he wanted.

He hit the send button again, muttered _please_ under his breath.

No signal blinked back at him.

 _Fuck_.

…

Sam was looking through every biblical text he could get his hands on, trying to figure out a way around the mess they'd walked into. Not just here in Blue Earth, but in general. Pulling out another long book from his bag, he was so deep in thought he hadn't heard the arrival until it'd been announced.

"I got your message," Castiel mumbled from behind him, standing at the fridge, staring into it.

Sam sighed thankfully, happy to see him.

"It was long, your message… And I find the sound of your voice… grating." He looked above, closed the door and then stumbled back, lifting his arm up so he didn't slosh his half-empty pot of coffee.

"What's wrong with you?" Sam wondered, brows narrowed.

Swaying, Cas didn't answer, but turned to stare at him dubiously.

"Are you… _drunk?_ "

"No!" he growled, but had to reach out for the wall to steady himself, again lifting his coffee pot so it didn't spill.

Sam cocked an unconvinced brow.

Tipping his head side to side, Cas confessed, "Yes!"

He struggled for words. "What the hell happened to you?"

Sighing, he leaned his head against the metal rungs of a wall divider. "I found a liquor store."

"And?"

"And I drank it!" Grumbling, he stumbled forward, irritable.

"Whoa!" Sam reached out to steady him. "Here you are…" He smiled uncomfortably, hands pressed to Cas' chest to keep him from falling over. "You okay?"

Cas glared back at him and then waved him closer before leaning in and saying thickly against his ear, "Don't ask stupid questions." Moving back, he sat on an end table and ordered, "Now tell me what you need," before he took a long drag from his coffee pot.

Staring at him, Sam shook his head before replying, "Th-There've been these- these demon attacks. _Massive_. 'Round the edge of town. And we can't figure out why they're…"

Sighing, he looked up at him. "Sign of angels?" he asked, wiping coffee from around his mouth, staring at the stain on his hand and then licking that away too.

"Sort of. They've been speaking to this prophet."

Cas looked up at him, still slowly licking at the top of his hand for any leftover drop. "Who?" he sighed.

"This girl, _Leah Gideon_."

"She's not a prophet," Cas declared, cocking a brow before he lifted his coffee pot again.

"I'm pretty sure she is." He reached out to grab Cas' shoulder and hold him up as he leaned back, trying to drain his pot. "That, uh, visions, headaches, the whole package…"

Swallowing thickly, Cas licked his lips and shook his head abrasively. "The names of _all_ the prophets… They're _seared_ into my brain." He looked over at Sam seriously. "Leah Gideon is not one of them."

Waiting, Sam furrowed his brows. "Then what is she?"

Cas held up his empty pot. "Get me more and I'll tell you."

…

On his way back to the motel, Dean heard a ruckus in the distance. Shouting, glass breaking. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he changed direction, making his way toward Paul's bar instead. Brow cocked, he hurried his steps and walked in just as Paul was exclaiming, "Please, guys, guys!"

"I'm not gonna tell you again!"

Paul and Rob were arguing over the bar between them, struggling for the weapon stuck beneath their combined arms.

"Take a breath, both of you!" Pastor Gideon told them.

"I'm sorry, Paul! There's no other way!" Rob exclaimed.

"Come on, what country _is this?_ "

With a grunt, the pastor forced them apart.

"Need a hand, Padre?" Dean asked, nodding at him.

"Just, everybody, cool down for a minute!" he said in reply.

"Cool down, hey?" Paul looked to Dean. "My _friends_ are tryin' to run me outta town. D'you think I should cool down?"

Rob struggled against the pastor's brace hand at his chest. "We're sorry, Paul. It is _not_ our choice."

"Ah, come on," he scoffed, "That's bull."

"You gotta go!" Rob snapped an arm through the air in emphasis, his wide eyes staring into Paul seriously. "For everyone's sake!"

"We grew up together. I stood up at your _wedding!_ "

"Yes, you did," Jane agreed, "But that was then. And now you're standing against the _flock_." Her dangerous expression glared back at him.

"That's not true," he replied lowly, staring searchingly. "I fight with you."

"This is a town of believers, Paul. You are not a believer."

Drawing back, he turned his head, eyes falling closed. "No," he breathed.

"Don't make this hard for us," Rob asked.

Paul reared his head back up. "Hard for _you?_ " His face curling in anger and disdain before clearing entirely as he stared at his best friend's unapologetic expression. "No…" he sighed, stepping back. Walking around the bar, he told them, "This is my home. You want me outta here? You'll have to drag me out." He shrugged, held his arm out an inch or so as if to say, 'Go ahead and try.'

Rob advanced.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean interrupted, stepping forward and grabbing him. "You don't wanna do this."

Throwing his arm off him, Rob growled, "Get out—"

Dean reared a fist back and punched him in the face, laying him out on the ground easily enough. And when he struggled to get back up, Dean wrapped his arms around him to keep him from fighting. But it was all pointless, because a shot pierced the air around them and Dean turned to see Paul shot, struggling as he sat on the floor of his own bar with Jane holding a .45 at him, her hands shaking as she whispered dangerously, "Nobody's gonna stop me from seeing my son again."

The pastor hurried to kneel next to his fallen friend while Dean released Rob, shocked, and joined him on Paul's other side. But he was gone, dead, and Dean looked back to see Jane lowering the gun, a shaky breath escaping her; no remorse to be seen.

…

"What do you _mean_ you're leaving?" Lois exclaimed. "You just got back! You haven't even _touched_ your Chunky Monkey and I've yet to hear the hot details of you and the heroic idiot!"

Rolling her eyes, Chloe half-smiled to herself, all the while taking certain clothes out of her red duffel bag and replacing them with others. Some outfits just weren't meant for the job she was getting into. She'd need comfy, moveable clothes. No pressed pants or pencil skirts for her. And definitely none of her spike heels… Although one pair could come in handy on their down time… Chewing her lip, she added her favorite strappy, red pair.

"Hey! I had plans for those shoes!" Lois said, hurrying over.

Chloe snorted. "Yeah? Then buy your own. I need these."

"Please, you're running off to some guy's dusty lair to talk demons and the Bible with him while your hot soul mate is out kickin' ass…" She crossed her arms, pouting. "Can't you come get them later?"

"You know… there's another pair in there I think you'd like better. Black, with a little label called _Gucci_ …"

Her eyes lit up. "No. _Way!_ "

She shrugged. "Being Oliver's sidekick had its upsides."

Walking to the closet with glee, she tossed back over her shoulder, "Speaking of. I heard you gave up the gig in favor of Dean 'I'm-too-sacrificial-for-my-own-good' Winchester."

Pursing her lips, she sighed. "Something like that."

"Something like _what_ , exactly? Because you're running off when the apocalypse is apparently baring down and you've hardly given me any real details." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Lois lifted her leg to tug on a black pump that made legs look phenomenal. "You've been holed up in your little tower again, watching instead of playing."

She scoffed. "Play can come later. I've got something a lot bigger and badder than whether I've slept in a few days."

"Days?" Lois repeated, eyes-wide. "Look, Chloe," she sighed, standing to check herself out in the mirror, smoothing her skirt in the process. "I want this world saved as much as anyone, but… I'd rather you not work yourself to death to do it."

"I'm _not_ , I…" She let out a long breath, turning her eyes upward before rubbing her temples. "I can't… _sleep_ without him."

Turning away from the body mirror, Lois cocked a curious brow. "Sorry, you can't _what?_ "

Mumbling under her breath, Chloe plopped down on her bed. "I can't sleep without him. There. Next to me. _Holding_ me."

"What? Like toss and turn, wake up feeling restless can't sleep, or…?"

"Like I close my eyes and… _nothing_. I just _lay there_ feeling _wrong_. Like… Like I'm in the wrong place, the wrong bed, the wrong _everything_. It's just… Err!" Throwing her hands up, she growled to herself. "My pillows don't smell like him, my blanket's not as scratchy as the motel-issued and I'm not warm enough without his body heat, I just…" Resting her elbows on her knees, she leaned forward, covering her face with her hands. "I lay there and I wonder… Is he okay? Is he wallowing again? Is he bottling it all up? Does he need to talk? Can I… Can I _do_ anything?"

Taking a seat next to her, Lois reached over and wrapped an arm around her younger cousin. "Wow, you really got it bad, huh?"

"Bad?" She laughed incredulously. "We're _soul mates_ , Lois. And I don't mean that in a high-school, we'll live happily-ever-after way, either! I mean, some creepy naked cupid waved his little finger because God or Destiny or the three Fates decided he and I were meant for each other. That-That's… That's so _beyond_ having it bad for him." Sniffling, she shook her head. "And I really wish it didn't hurt this much. It's not the loving him part that's getting to me, I can _handle_ that. It's the knowing that he can't _ever_ just love me back. That he will _always_ be thinking of _me_ before _us_." Wiping at her face angrily, she scoffed. "So, don't worry… I'm sure I'll be back in a week, telling you yet another sob story about how he kicked me out again because he didn't want the bad guys to hunt me down." She rolled her eyes.

"I don't wanna get pro-male on you here, but… It's kind of sweet of him, right? I mean… He cares more about you than saving the world, Chlo!" She grinned. "That's like, _epic!_ "

"No, Lo, that's like the apocalypse coming true!" Standing up, she waved her arms around. "Cas said that my heart was going to _be_ something or _do_ something to help this war, to turn it in our favor. So I don't want to get analytical, but… Doesn't my heart kind of need to be _there_ , with _him,_ for that to work?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "I'm not exactly the weaver of fate or relationships over here."

"I know." Her shoulders fell. "And I'm sorry. I've just unloaded a bucket load of angst on you and you're really handling it like a pro." She smiled sincerely, thankful.

"Yeah, well." She waved it off. "Maybe I'm just happy to see you getting your man… Kind of." She frowned. "I know he's important to the whole world saving process, but… Can't we just beat him up? A little? For what he did?"

Chloe chuckled. "Maybe when it's over."

"I'm holding you to that."

"I'm sure you will." Hands on her hips, she nodded toward her bags. "You wanna help me pack and then we'll break out that Chunky Monkey and talk hot Winchester sex?"

Lois pointed a meaningful finger. "I want _serious_ detail!"

"He didn't even take his pants off and I orgasmed five times… Trust me, you'll want one for yourself," she teased.

" _Five times?_ " She hopped up off the bed eagerly. "Didn't you say he had a brother?"

"Lois!"

"What?"

"You're _dating_ Clark!"

"Who?" she muttered, feigning loss of memory.

…

When Dean got back to the motel, the sun had risen. He was out of sorts, even a little dazed.

"We went out lookin' for—" Sam paused, seeing the blood on his brother's hands, his brow furrowing in question. "You all right?"

Lifting his hands, he looked down and managed, "Yeah… It's, uh, it's not my blood." Frowning, he licked his lips, walking further into the room. "Paul's dead."

Brows raising in surprise, Sam exclaimed, "What?"

"Jane _shot_ him."

"It's starting…" Cas sighed, reaching for his bubbling pot of coffee and guzzling it back.

"What's starting?" His face scrunched up. "Where the hell've _you_ been?"

Head leaned back against the wall, Cas turned it in Dean's direction. "On a bender," he growled seriously. "And after that… With Chloe… She introduced me to this very addictive beverage." He raised his pot up to show him and then turned back to Sam.

"Did he j—" He stared at Cas "Did you say on a _bender?_ "

"Yeah…" Sam said, nodding. "He's had four pots of coffee and he's still pretty smashed."

"It is not of import," Cas told them, raising a hand and staring blearily at the floor. Rolling his head back and forth he declared, "We need to talk about what's happening around here."

"Yeah, and we will, right after you tell me what the hell you were doing with my—" His jaw ticked. "With _Chloe_."

He blinked back at him, turned his head as if to try and remember and then said, "We talked."

Waiting impatiently, Dean cocked his brows. "About?"

"You and…" He winced. "My faith in God."

"And then you stole her coffee pot?" Sam asked, trying not to smile.

"She had a spare."

"Right." Shaking his head, Dean sighed. "Look, whatever… What's goin' on around here?"

"Well for starters…" Sam said, watching as Dean crossed the room to wash his hands in the sink. " _Leah_ is not a real prophet!" He sat down next to Cas on the couch, brows raised seriously.

Looking over his shoulder, Dean cocked his head. "Well then what is she exactly?"

"The Whore," Cas replied glibly.

"Wow, Cas…" He shook his head. "Tell us whatchu really think."

"She _rises_ when Lucifer walks the earth." He pointed down at the book before him, his finger following the script on the left side. "And she shall come, baring false prophecy." He tapped the picture on the right. "This creature…" He turned the book sideways for Dean to read when he came over, drying his hands on a towel and sitting down adjacent to them. "Has the power to take a human's form, read minds. Book of Revelations calls her the Whore of Babylon."

Staring down at the picture with furrowed brows, Dean muttered, "That's catchy."

"The real Leah was probably killed months ago," Sam added.

"What about the demons attacking the town?" He sat back in his chair curiously.

"They're under her control," Cas told them.

"And the Enochian exorcism?"

He whirled his head around in a circle before stating, "Fake! It actually means…" He smirked to himself. "You, um, breed with the mouth of a goat."

Dean and Sam glanced at each other.

Looking between them, Cas waved his hand, admitting, "It's funnier in Enochian."

"So the demons smoking out, that's just an endgame? Why? What's the point?"

He shook his head. "What you just saw. Innocent blood spilled in God's name."

"You heard all that Heaven talk…" Sam reminded, shaking his head. "She manipulates people."

Brows furrowed, Dean sighed. "To slaughter and kill and sing peppy little hymns…" Standing, he walked back toward the sink.

Cas nodded absently before guzzling more of his coffee and staring down into the pot irritably when it was empty once more.

"Awesome," Dean muttered, throwing his dish towel back down on the counter.

Attention drawn back, Cas hugged his pot in his lap and told them, "Her goal is to take as many souls to hell as possible. And it's… just beginning. She's well on her way to dragging this whole _town_ into the pit."

"All right… So how do we go… pimp a Babylon on all over this bitch?"

Cas and Sam shared a look, shrugging.

…

In Blue Earth, Minnesota, in the office of Pastor Gideon, Leah, now recognized as the Whore of Babylon, was convincing Rob and Jane that what they did was for the greater good, ignoring her father who questioned the rightness of killing.

While in Metropolis, Kansas, Chloe Sullivan was arguing with Oliver Queen.

Sighing, Chloe crossed the watchtower, gathering up printouts of weather patterns and temperature scans, rolling her eyes as Oliver followed her every step.

"So, _wait,_ you honestly think I'm just going to let you run off to the middle of nowhere and play the leading lady with the two guys destined to war each other for the world?" He shook his head. "Look, Chloe, I know how big this is, but… You know, I was comfortable with you up here, watching from afar, doing what you could… But flying you right into the danger zone seems a little reckless."

"It's not the danger zone," she sighed. "Bobby's is safe. In fact, it's got its own demon panic room, okay? And he's one of the smartest hunters there is. I think I'll be safe with him." Filling her bag with whatever she could that might help, she turned around to face him. "I know you're just looking out for me, Ollie. But I need you to trust me." Staring up at him searchingly, she shook her head. "I have to do this."

Frowning, he looked away, considered. Jaw clenched, he nodded shortly. "You'll have my satellites hooked up directly to your laptop… Whatever you need." He stared at her seriously. "And I mean that… We may not be used to fighting demons, but if you need our help…" He smiled. "We'll be there."

She grinned knowingly. "You're on my speed dial, Green Bean."

He chuckled under his breath. "I'll miss that wit of yours."

Looking down, she pursed her lips. "You never know, maybe when this is all over… I'll be back as Watchtower, just like usual."

"Destiny doesn't end when the fighting does, Chlo…" He smiled knowingly. "It only gets better."

She really hoped he was right.

…

Castiel dropped a long chunk of smooth, sharpened, pale wood on the table between Dean and Sam. "The Whore can be killed with that," he sighed, walking to the coffee pot where he poured the hot brew into his own and held it tight to his chest. "It's a stake made from a Cyprus tree in Babylon."

"Great," Dean grunted. "Let's ventilate her."

He sighed. "It's not that easy."

"Course not."

"The Whore can only be killed by a _true servant_ of heaven."

Dean turned his eyes away and then back. "Servant like-?"

"Not you," he interrupted, staring down into his coffee pot as he swirled it to and fro. "Or me," he muttered. "Sam, of course, is an abomination."

Sam frowned to himself, not entirely offended but not quite appreciating Cas' observation.

"We'll have to find someone else." He lifted his coffee up and began guzzling.

"Is that… even _slightly_ okay for him?" Dean wondered, glancing at his brother.

"I don't know… It's not making much of a dent though. I can't tell if he's an irritable drunk or just… irritable." He shook his head. "He's picky too. He made me go out and buy as many flavors as I could find until he found the same one Chloe was using." He scowled. "Do you know how many kinds of coffee there are?"

Dean cocked a brow, unenthused. "No. And I don't want to."

Licking his lips, Cas lowered his coffee and sighed. "Your soul mate is much easier to get along with."

"Why? 'Cause she makes you coffee and listens to you bitch?"

"No." He frowned, pondered, and then admitted, "Yes."

Sam covered his mouth to keep from smiling.

"So where'd you find her anyway?"

"In a kitchen," Cas replied simply.

"A _kitchen_? Was there a city attached to this kitchen? She in Metropolis? Or she finally take that sandy vacation?"

He cocked his head to stare at Dean dubiously. "And why should I tell _you?_ Our chances at beating Lucifer have been broken down one by one. Chloe was our last chance and you sent her away." Glaring, he stepped forward. "You are not supposed to separate from her. Soul mates are not made for lives—"

"Lived apart, yeah, I get it!" he snapped. "So maybe I wanted her to _have_ a life! Sue me!"

Lifting a brow, Cas shook his head. "I like your other half much better right now." With one last glare, he turned around, sipping his coffee as he went.

Rolling his eyes, Dean felt a headache coming on.

…

Pastor David Gideon was walking down a dark, cold road, hands tucked in his pockets as he considered what had happened just a few short minutes ago. His daughter, his sweet Leah, had incited anarchy amongst the fearful townspeople. Sinners, she'd told them, were the last sacrifice before they made it to their paradise. He warned her, he yanked her back from her pedestal to remind her that she could get somebody killed. "Let go of me," she'd whispered levelly, "Or the next sinner I name will be _you_." And he let her go, shocked, mute and frozen on spot. Did he believe her? Did he believe this was what the angels wanted? Regardless, he could play no part in the massacre! He would not lend a hand in killing these people. So he left, he left hoping that they would see the error of their ways, that perhaps this was all just one horrible nightmare.

There were no guards out to line the streets tonight, no gunned men to keep demons at bay. And so David was more suspicious than usual, jumping at the smallest of sounds, stretching his leg just to feel the gun strapped to his thigh. A rustle had him turning around swiftly, eyes scanning for the source, but there was nothing. Turning back around, he got three more steps before he heard it again, only to turn back around and find himself greeted with a dour looking man, his beige trench coat snapping in the wind, and a pot of steaming coffee in his raised hand, looking so out of place.

"Pastor Gideon?" he asked.

"Yeah, who are you?"

He sighed. "I'm an Angel of the Lord," he said unenthusiastically, tipping his pot of coffee in fake excitement before taking a long sip.

"Yeah, sure…" David turned to walk away, unconvinced.

But the man reached out, a hand clasping David's shoulder and with a gust of wind that made the wet leaves on the ground lift into the air, they disappeared from sight.

Shocked, David looked around to find himself in a motel room with the two new hunters staring back at him. "What the hell was that?" he wondered shakily.

"Yeah, he wasn't lyin' about the angel thing," Dean told him, walking forward and motioning. "Have a seat, Padre, we gotta have a chat."

David was confused, unsure, but after what had just happened, he did what was asked of him. Only to get the shock of his life.

Whore of Babylon. Leah. His little girl! And they wanted him to _stake_ her?

"No," he sighed, shaking his head hurriedly. Clearing his throat, he looked up at them firmly. "She's my daughter."

"I'm sorry, but she's _not_ ," Dean said, brows lifted while his eyes narrowed. "She's the thing that _killed_ your daughter."

"That's impossible," David disagreed, swallowing tightly.

"But it's true," Sam intervened. "And deep down you know it."

Eyes burning, throat clogging, he reached up to wipe a shaky hand across his face.

"Look, we get it. It's too much. But if you don't do this, she's going to _kill_ a lot of people."

Emotion showing through, David pressed a fist to his mouth.

"And damn the rest to hell."

"It's just—" he croaked.

Dean held the stake out for him, staring.

Taking in a wobbly breath, he shook his head. "Why does it have to be me?"

"'Cause you're a servant of heaven," Cas told him, leaning against a wall morosely.

"Yeah, and you're an angel!" he reminded, turning to glare back at him.

"Poor example of one."

They shared a dark look before David finally turned back around, wiping his hands on his pants and staring at the stake, his brows knit in confusion.

…

Shortly thereafter, decision made, Dean loaded up the trunk while Cas sat down on the stoop outside the motel room, rubbing his temples, an empty pot of coffee sitting on the cement next to him.

Walking to the driver's door, Dean leaned through the window, grabbed up a bottle of Tylenol and tossed them in Cas' direction.

Catching them easily, he looked up. "How many should I take?'

Hands tucked in his pockets, Dean sat back against the hood of his car, feet crossed at the ankle. "You?" He dragged in a thoughtful breath. "You should probably just down the whole bottle."

Staring down at the bottle, holding it with both hands, his coffee pot sitting next to him, Cas murmured, "Thanks."

"Yeah, don't mention it." He smiled humorlessly. "Hey, I've been there."

Cas glanced up sorrowfully.

"I'm a big expert on dead-beat dad's, so…" He chewed his lip, dragged his eyes from the pavement and stared off. "Yeah, I get it." Stretching his neck as his throat hummed with pent up emotion, he turned his eyes up to the sky. "I know how you feel."

"How do you manage it?" he wondered lowly.

Dean glanced at him, shook his head ever-so-slightly. "On a good day you get to kill a Whore."

Cas looked up at him.

Dean lifted his brows.

"And on a bad day?"

"On a bad day…" He sighed, lifting a hand to drag the back of it down his mouth. "On a bad day I used to just get pissed drunk, forget about it in a woman or three…" He frowned, snorted under his breath. "Now I just wonder what she'd say to make it better."

 _Her_ name went unsaid, but known.

Cas swallowed tightly, eyes falling to the pavement. "You're lucky, Dean… Even if it doesn't seem that way."

"Yeah." He scoffed, unconvinced. "Yeah…"

…

In a storage unit across town, innocent townspeople were being found and forced inside by Leah's own desperate group of _believers_. And when they'd all been rounded up by Jane and her husband Rob, Leah smiled. "Okay then, get the kerosene."

Showing the first signs of doubt, Jane stared back at her, surprised.

Standing at a table of ammunition, Leah looked back at her, brows lifted. "What?"

"There are kids in there."

Shaking her head, Leah showed no remorse. "The angels named them for a reason." Walking toward her, she tipped her head comfortingly. "Jane… Your son needs you to do this." She stared, waited.

And Jane turned, ready to do as she was told to.

Stepping away from the group, happy in the knowledge that they were doing as she asked, Leah left for her father's office. Prettily, she walked daintily toward the mirror, smiling at herself as the demonic presence of her true self revealed itself through the reflective glass. Snarling, her eyes a stark white and her teeth rotted through. Pleased with her progress, she reached over to close the door on the bureau, gasping when a man appeared, reaching out and grabbing hold of her. An _angel_ , she recognized.

Whirled around, her arms yanked behind her back, she stared wide-eyed as Pastor Gideon came forward, a Cyprus stake in hand, ready to plunge inside her. "Daddy, don't hurt me!" she cried knowingly.

He paused.

"Gideon, now!" Sam Winchester exclaimed as he and his brother entered the room.

Turning her head, Leah hurriedly snapped out Enochian, making the angel at her back cry out in pain and fall away. As the Pastor advanced on her, she raised her two hands, palm up and sent him flying before doing the same to the Winchesters and running out of the room, back to her group of God-fearing fighters.

Grabbing up the stake, David chased after her.

Struggling to stand up, Sam panted, "Gideon! Wait! No!"

"Help me! He's a demon!" Leah cried as she entered the room, sending two of her _troops_ after their coming visitors.

Trying to barrel through them, David was caught and subsequently punched in the face, laid out on the ground, the stake fallen from his hand. Being beaten by his once fellow townspeople, he could do nothing as Leah ordered, "Light the kerosene."

Sam and Dean entered the room with a kick to one face and a punch to the other, throwing the two guys off David as quick as they could. Seeing Rob with a lighter at the storage room door, Sam ran for him, punching him in the face and throwing him off balance.

Dean tossed someone out of the way before turning to see Leah, whose hands threw him to the ground easily before she straddled his waist and wrapped her fingers around his neck. Struggling for breath under her grip, Dean spotted the Cyprus stake just out of reach and stretched his arm to the limit, fingers wiggling desperately.

Spotting what he was going for, Leah scoffed, " _Please!_ Like you're a servant of _heaven!_ "

Meanwhile, Sam was struggling to hold onto Jane while she cried, "Let me go!"

"This is why my team's gonna win," Leah gloated down at Dean. "You're the great _vessel?_ You're pathetic, self-hating and faithless. It's the end of the world…" she sneered down at him, "and you're just gonna sit back and watch it happen."

Choking for breath, Dean grabbed up the last reserves of strength, wrapped his hand around the stake, swung it across and bashed Leah in the face, releasing her hands from his neck, and then reared back and sunk it deep into her stomach. "Don't be so sure… _Whore_ ," he growled before forcing it deeper into her body.

Grunting in pain, she fell back, Dean following to plant it further and twist the stake into her gut.

Her face twisted, her true visage coming through as she stared sightlessly up, gasping for breath.

Sam and Jane stared in wide-eyed shock while Dean stumbled back. Together, they walked forward to watch as black smoke escaped up the now fiery and charred stake while Leah spasmed on the floor, coughing and choking, her face snapping from the sweet pastor's daughter to that of the Whore, before finally, in a burst of flames, the demonic presence was banished from her and she lay dead.

"But…" Jane gasped. "I don't understand… How are we supposed to get to paradise now?"

Dean glanced at the body and then back at her. "I'm sorry… Pretty sure you're headed in a different direction."

Crossing to help Sam with the dazed and battered pastor, they looked at each other in confusion. He hadn't honestly thought it would work. Since when was Dean Winchester a servant of _God?_

Moments later, after releasing the trapped townspeople, Sam and Dean were carrying both Cas and Pastor Gideon, arms slung over their shoulders as they walked up the steps from the basement of the church.

"Dean…" Sam grunted. "How did you do that?"

"What?"

"Kill her."

"My long run of luck held out, I guess."

Growling as they peaked the last stair, Sam reminded, "Last I checked, she could only be _ganked_ by a servant of heaven."

"Well, what d'you want me to tell ya? Saw a shot, I went for it."

Circling either side of the Impala, they helped the two men into the backseat, closing the doors.

Sam stared at him over the roof of the Impala. Panting heavily, he didn't sugarcoat it when he asked, "Are you gonna do something stupid?"

"Like what?" he growled back, brows fused.

"Like _Michael, stupid!_ "

Dean's eyes cleared, his chin raising. "Come on, Sam…" he muttered. "Gimme a little break." Dean opened his door and sat down in the driver's seat.

Growling under his breath, Sam sighed, climbing into his side.

…

Back at the motel, Cas was curled up on the bed, shaking his empty coffee pot as if to ask for more. Dean ignored him; he figured coming down off his caffeine high would be hard enough as it was. Crossing the room, he found Sam patching up the Pastor. "How's the head?"

"Well, I'm seein' double… But that may be the painkillers," David admitted with a chuckle.

"You'll be okay," Dean assured.

Smiling sadly, he shook his head. "No…"

He stared, considered. Not only was a good man dead because of his "daughter's" visions, but his daughter too had been lost and his town was in turmoil. And faith… Dean knew a lot about losing it but he figured it had to be harder for a man of God like David Gideon.

They were promised paradise and now all they had to look forward to was hell on earth. Dean sighed, tired of it. Every time he tried to help it seemed it got worse. Every time he turned around, somebody else was dead or dying and people were losing those they cared about. And his brother… Sammy wanted to believe they could do this on their own, but he… He just wasn't sure anymore. God had skipped out on them, leaving it in their not-so-capable hands, the angels were lying bastards who seemed to want this war as much as Lucifer. He had a faithless angel out to drink himself away from his misery and a _soul mate_ he'd sent off in hopes of saving her. And what'd it get him? Sad, lonely and more pathetic than ever.

With a sigh, he stood and stalked toward the door.

"Where ya goin'?" Sam wondered suspiciously.

Dean turned his head to reply, "I'm just gonna grab some clean bandages outta the trunk. _Relax_."

Sam stared, unsure and Dean couldn't look at him.

Pushing the door open, he walked out and toward the car.

And seconds later when the engine started, Sammy ran out the motel door, yelling, "Dean!" He threw his arms up in the air. _"Dean!_ "

Tires squealing, he kept driving, right out of the motel parking lot and down the main road. Out of city limits, he kept going, his cell phone open and propped up on the dash. He kept his eyes on it, going from the screen back to the road, waiting for that little "No Signal" sign to disappear. Blue Earth's cell tower was the only one for miles but then he saw a bar light up and then another and he slowed down when he had three full ones, reaching for the phone and dialing.

Running a shaky hand down his face, he leaned his head back against the seat and waited. The rumble of the car growled in the background, the hum of it beneath him as he sat on the side of the dark, deserted road, desperately hoping she'd answer the phone. Three rings, four, five and he wondered if her voice mail would pick up. If he could leave this in a message.

"Yeah?" a harsh voice answered suddenly. Female, but not Chloe.

His brows furrowed. Dragging the phone back, he stared at the numbers, nodded when he knew for sure it was her cell and then brought it back to his ear. "Yeah, uh," He cleared his throat. "Is Chloe there?"

"Depends," the woman snapped back. "Who's askin'?"

He sighed, licking his lips. "A, uh, friend."

She snorted. "Yeah? Well, any _friend_ of Chloe's would know she was on a sandy beach getting oiled by hot cabana boys, all right? Check your sources next time, diphthong!" And she hung up on him.

Holding the phone in front of his face, he frowned. "What the hell's a diphthong?"

…

Chloe stepped into the room to hear the last of Lois' rant before she snapped the cell phone shut. "Did you just call someone a _diphthong?_ " Her brows knotted. "And is that _my_ cell phone?"

"Word of the day calendar," she explained. "So sue me."

"Oookaaay..." she drawled, her brows furrowed. "So, who was it?"

"Nobody. Jerk solicitors."

Chloe frowned slowly. Knowing dawned and she murmured, "It was _him_ , wasn't it?"

"No. Not him. There are no _hims_. They've been wiped out for their stupidity."

Chloe blinked. "Right. And I thought _I_ was supposed to be the bitter, cynical one." Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "Clark forget a big day or something?"

Lois pursed her lips. "Clark who?"

She chuckled lightly. "I'm gonna back out of the room slowly now."

Doing just that, she paused when Lois called out, "And don't you call that Jerkface back! Let him suffer!"

"Duly noted!" she muttered on a sigh.

However, after leaving the room, she made her way to the cordless in the kitchen and grabbed it up, taking it with her out onto the balcony. Wrapping her sweater around her tightly as a chilly breeze swept across, she sat down in a chair and curled her legs up beneath her. Looking around the sliding glass door to make sure Lois wasn't nearby, she dialed Dean's cell number. Phone tucked by her ear, she fiddled with her fingers in her lap, feeling nerves like never before.

It was two rings before he answered. "Yeah?"

She paused, wondered if maybe hanging up was smart. Wrapping her hand around the necklace he'd tossed and she'd salvaged that night they'd parted, she gripped it tight, until she could feel the indentations painfully biting into her palm.

"Chloe?"

Sighing, she turned her eyes up as they welled with tears. God, his voice sounded good. Low and gravelly, it sent warm goosebumps all over her body. "Yeah," she managed softly.

He sighed heavily. "You're okay."

Sniffling, she rolled her eyes. "As good as can be expected."

"Yeah, uh…" He cleared his throat. "Look, about that night… I-I'm sorry I was so…"

"Abrupt? Cruel? Assholish?"

"Not sure that last one's even a word."

"Still applies," she muttered.

He chuckled lightly, humorlessly. "Yeah, it probably does."

Wiping her face, she sighed. "Why are you calling, Dean?"

He didn't say anything for a long moment but then, "I just…" he trailed off, his voice hoarse. "I…"

She imagined he was rubbing his brow, his eyes closed, jaw ticking. Emotions always looked strained on him, hard to show or express.

"Are you all right?" she wondered.

"No." He snorted quietly. "Not really…"

Her eyes fell closed, her chest aching.

"Look, I… I have no illusions about the life that I live… I know how that's gonna end for me. Whatever, I'm okay with that."

"Dean," she interrupted, shaking her head. "You _don't_ know that for sure. You can't—"

"Please," he asked. "I just..." Sighing heavily, she could hear the underlying shake to his voice. "I mean, I always knew… I always knew I was gonna die bloody and angry a-and _sad_ , but… But then you came along and you just…" He swallowed tightly. "You made me want something else. Something different."

Tears spilling, she pressed her knuckles to her lips to keep a sob from escaping. "And we can have that… We _can_."

"No… No, we can't…" He paused, let out a shaky breath. "But I wanted you to know, that when I do picture myself happy… it's with you. It's…" She could hear the smile in his voice. "It's painless and easy and yeah, we argue, _a lot_ , but I love it… I-I… I see you and I hold you and there's _nothin'_ else… _Nobody_ else…"

Using her sleeve to wipe at her face, she nodded, despite knowing he couldn't see her. "It doesn't have to end like this… I can meet you. I-I can be there _with_ you."

"I wish it was different. I do..."

Chloe felt the ache in her heart double. "Dean?"

He licked his lips. "Be safe, Chloe."

"No! Wait, Dean!"

"What's the point?" he sighed brokenly. "Things are about to get really bad… Worse than bad. _Hell_." He shook his head, adding determinedly, "But I don't want you to worry… I'm gonna make some arrangements for you… Make sure you're taken care of."

Eyes widening, she shook her head. "Dean, you are _not_ going to Michael."

He laughed shortly. "You're still tryin' to boss me around from this far away?"

"I'm trying to _help_ you," she argued. "Dean, when we first met, you told me… You said you'd never be a _meatsuit_ for some arrogant angel. That you'd kill Lucifer yourself if you had to. The Dean _I know_ … The Dean that is better than _all_ of this, he wouldn't give up. Not now, not when the stakes are the highest."

"I _can't_ …" His voice shook. "I can't keep doing this."

"You can! You _can_ , Dean. Just…" She sighed. "I will be there with you, every step of the way. But you have to believe. In me, in us, in _yourself_."

He was quiet for a moment; letting that sink in, she hoped. Finally, he asked, "Will you promise me something?"

Biting her lip, she nodded. "Anything."

"Just… Just watch out for Sammy, okay?" His voice fell, hitched. "And tell him to do the same for you."

"Dean…"

"Please."

"I will," she breathed.

And then a pause, a heartbeat that hurt worse than any pain she'd ever known before he croaked out her name, "Chloe?"

"Yeah?"

He was raking a hand down his face, she knew, wiping away the tears he refused to admit he'd shed. "I love you."

That voice, a whisper of such intense devotion, such raw meaning, she felt it deep down inside of herself.

Before she could reply the dial tone met her ears, dull and cruel.

"I love you, too," she murmured regardless, letting her own tears spill free.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XVII**.

Bobby Singer was waiting for Chloe at the airport, his big white van hard to miss. Jet-lagged, she was in no mood for his attitude. She hadn't slept last night, or the last few days. The flight over had been long and draining and standing here wasn't as comforting as she'd once thought it would be. After the bombshell Dean had dropped on her last night, she was in worse shape than she'd ever been and she knew it was showing.

Spotting her, Bobby honked, waved her over with his long, flannel draped arm outside the window. With a roll of her eyes, she said goodbye to the pilot of the Queen jet and hurried down the stairs before jogging across the asphalt to take shotgun at Bobby's side. The van door creaked as she opened it and put up a fight until she had to slam it shut. Putting her laptop and duffel bags on the floor of the van, she plugged in her seatbelt and glanced at him, noting the various metal bars and handles that helped him drive without the use of his legs.

"I got a call from Dean last night," she said in way of greeting.

"Yeah?" he grunted, revving the engine before he turned the lumbering van around.

"Yeah… And it's not good."

"When's it ever?" he muttered.

She couldn't argue with that.

"I think he's come to a conclusion on Michael…" She frowned. "And it's not the one we all thought it'd be."

Brows furrowed, Bobby turned to look at her. "What? That idjit is actually thinkin' of sayin' _yes?_ "

Nodding, she clucked her tongue. "He didn't say it in so many words, but—"

"Well what _did_ he say?" he snapped back, speeding down the road, back toward his scrap yard and home.

"That he was done…" Her jaw clenched. "And he asked me to watch out for Sam."

Bobby cursed. "That damn boy…"

"I know…" Rubbing her temples, she nodded. "Look, I think we all agree what he's doing is stupid and… And we can't let him."

Turning to look at her, his eyes were wide and serious. "And what d'you propose we _do?_ "

"Whatever we _have_ to." Turning, she stared out the window stubbornly.

…

It was a dream. It had to be. But he couldn't make himself wake up; didn't really _want_ to.

The motel room was fashioned the same as any other; an overpriced hovel. The wallpaper was peeling; yellowed from water damage near the ceiling. The floor was stained, carpet worn thin from so many shoes, so many people, and the bleached out spots made Dean think there'd been blood here once, a body or two, cleaned up, shipped out, forgotten, ignored when the next renter came paying. No double this time – just one bed, one person. Except he wasn't alone. She was there. That was the heat of her hands on his legs; that was the movement of her body climbing up his, making the blanket move with her until finally she popped through, a mischievous smile on her pink lips, her hair in disarray.

There were no clothes here, no barriers. There was no duty or war, angels or demons. There was just him and her. And she was amazing. She was naked and writhing and her soft skin felt so good against him. Hands trailing up his torso, fingers dipping in the hollows and creases, the scars and the muscles, of his every inch. She straddled his waist, her thighs tight and hot on either side of his hips. Fingers taut around his shoulders, she leaned forward, her hair slipping to tickle along his face, blocking out the rest of the room, the world. She stretched her upper body out along him, her breasts and tight rosy nipples rubbing along his chest.

His hands reached for her, smoothed up those creamy white thighs, flexed across her flared hips, following her curves to her tiny waist and up her sides, along her back, feeling her shiver, her breath skitter across his mouth. His fingers caressed her shoulders and down her slim arms, thumbs gliding across her forearm until they spread along her pulse, felt it thump rapidly, in perfect succession with his own.

He wanted to roll her over, take her right then and there, slide deep inside her until he could feel her moist heat grip the whole of him, flutter, welcome him so wholly she'd cry out his name, her back arching, her breasts forward and he'd lick them. He'd… Hands sliding down her back once more, he applied pressure to her hips until she'd leaned back and then he was sitting up, hefting her with one arm so he could wrap his mouth around her pebbled nipple, suckling, nibbling, dark eyes watching as her head fell back, her mouth wide open. Fingers dragging though his hair, she whimpered his name, " _Dean…_ " and rolled her hips down, brushing that soft, hot heat along his length.

He tightened painfully, his cock jerking, desperate for her. She drew her chest back, his mouth leaving her soft breast with a pop, and then she was reaching between him, her small fingers enveloping his shaft, drawing him inside her, inch by slow inch. And he could feel it in his bones, in his every stuttered breath. Like a vice, she hugged him all around, wet and hot and _home_. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her face even with his own. He couldn't breathe, it all felt so god damn good. Her tongue peeked between her lips, licked his, just a tiny little swipe, teasing, sweet. He grinned, could see the warmth and the happiness of content mirrored in her eyes.

Her hands slid from around his neck, fanned out across his shoulders, journeyed down his biceps, squeezed and then slid beneath to wrap around his back, to spread her fingers across his shoulders, digging in, holding herself steady before she lifted herself up, swirled her hips and clenched all around him. He grunted, expelled every last breath from his body and just stared at her a moment. She smirked, green eyes darkening with lustful intent. And then she leaned into him, pressed him back until he fell across the bed, large hands holding her hips as they lay heavy and cocooned in each other's heat.

Her hips were moving, the erotic rocking sent slivers of euphoric ecstasy licking all along his body, rioting against the need for air as he forgot with each stroke. His palms slid up the front of her body, cupping her breast, squeezing, kneading, while the other wrapped around the back of her neck, gripped her hair tight, and drew her down. Their mouths met, slanting, impassioned tongues tangling, breath beating against each other's, the taste of her intoxicating his every sense. Panting now, their foreheads met, sweaty, taut, as she cupped his face and cried out against his mouth, an orgasm making her tremble against him.

"I love you," he murmured, staring into her liquid green eyes. "God, I love you."

And she smiled, grinned like he'd just given her paradise in verbal form.

Leaning back, she sat atop him once more, her hands braced at his abdomen. "I—"

Sweet, soft eyes turned dark suddenly, her smile fading as her jaw fell slack and then she coughed, blood spurting from her lips, the same he'd just kissed. And she lurched, shook, before flames burst from her stomach, licking up her body as blood and fire scored her flesh. Like his mother, like Jess.

" _No!_ " he growled, sitting up abruptly, his euphoria lost.

Gathering up the sheets on either side, he wrapped her in them, trying to bat down the flames that tore through her malignantly. She screamed, her head falling back as she yelled in agony. Choking for air on sobs, she writhed now in pain, in the curse he'd forced upon her. His _burden_. And when the flames subsided, he laid her back on the bed, pushing her hair from her face, out of her eyes. "Chloe?" He shook her slightly, cupping her cheek. "Chloe… _Please_ …"

But she could do no more than stare up in dead calm; her blood bloomed through, spreading along the white sheet. And a tear, metallic red, slipped down the side of her pale white cheek, a trail of death left behind it.

He shook his head, his jaw ticking, his throat raw as he gathered her up, held her tight to his body and just rocked back and forth. No, no, no… This wasn't how it was supposed to go. They were away, they were… _free_. He buried his face in her neck, inhaled deeply, her scent, his mixed in, and then let it all out in a trembling _scream…_

Dean woke up the same way, his throat hoarse from yelling. There was a bang on the wall behind him, somebody telling him to shut up, leave his issues at the door. Sitting upright in his bed, alone, no Chloe, dead or otherwise, to be seen, he looked to and fro, searched for her, for his brother, and remembered. He'd left them. Sent one away and ditched the other back in Blue Earth. If Sam was smart, he'd head to Bobby's, stay there, leave Dean to his business. Or hell, maybe he'd go find Chloe, maybe they'd wait out this war together. For some reason, that idea made his chest ache, made his lips curl in a sneer. Jealousy was a foreign concept when it came to women; maybe he looked at other people and wanted their perfect little ignorant lives, but never did he look at one particular woman and want her alone. Not until Chloe.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he stood from his bed. His body hurt, from his head to his toes. Sweat still clung to his skin and he needed a shower to get the feel of death and desire and loss off of him. His dreams had taken a less erotic end lately and her abrupt death had at least relieved him of the erection that often followed thinking about her too long. Being awake brought back reality and with it came sorrow and regret. The look on her face… He winced. That still hurt. Walking away from her… That definitely wasn't feeling any righter. But he couldn't go back now. She was safe in Metropolis and he was… Hell, he was out saying goodbye to what had once been good, getting ready for his last hope.

Bitter, he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He never thought he'd really get to this point. Saying _yes_ had once been the ultimate _wrong_ thing to do. If Lucifer and Michael wanted to battle it out, they sure as hell weren't gonna do it through him and Sammy. But life had caught up, decisions too, and he had more at stake than before. It wasn't just him and Sam now, it was Chloe and Bobby and even Cas. And if God wasn't going to step up and do his part then Dean would have to.

Destiny, right? This was his…

Chloe said it was the decisions made and he supposed he made his. He sent her back home, away from him, expecting that she'd be better off. He left Sam in Blue Earth, thinking he'd be safer there than with him, knowing that if he let him stay he might just pull some of his Dr. Phil talk-it-out bull and he might change his mind. But if Michael could offer him what he needed… If he could give him and his friends and Chloe real and true paradise, away from all this, then Dean would do it. He'd hand over his body in a damn heartbeat if it meant that the people he cared about would be okay. It was his nature; what he would always do.

He didn't want to think about what it might mean if Michael couldn't offer him any of that… Back to before then, maybe. Back to the road and the demons and the war that kept closing in. Back to wanting but not having Chloe and always wondering if maybe this would be the day Sam said yes to ol' Lucy. That attic Pamela was offering sounded pretty damn good. Shared heaven with Chloe; no more pain or duties or jobs or _anything_. And what was the price for eternal rest? One meatsuit, served up on a platter.

Hell… He could do that.

…

"Have you called Sam?" Chloe wondered, sitting on a dusty old couch with a lap full of biblical texts.

Bobby rolled himself into the room, a cup of coffee in his lap and a tired look on his face. "What're you doin' up this damn early?"

Cocking a brow, she lifted a book in answer. "Catching up on my light reading. And you?"

With a yawn, he sat back behind his desk, lifted his coffee for a long sip and then shook his head. "Couldn't sleep." Putting his mug off to the side and pulling a few books forward that he'd been going through the night before, he frowned. "And in answer to your question, I've _been_ tryin' Sam since ya told me Dean went AWOL. No answer." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Damn idjits."

"I checked Blue Earth out on my laptop; it's not getting any cell service out there. That's why I asked. Since Dean called and you're not getting an answer with Sam, I think he may still be there…"

"So, what? Dean ditched Sam and went on his own private road trip to give in to heaven's _finest_?"

She shrugged. "If I was about to do something I knew my brother wouldn't agree with and he was one of the few people who could talk me out of it, I don't think I'd be offering him shotgun."

Pursing his lips, Bobby shook his head. "Well, if Sam's outta commission for awhile, we better start lookin' at places Dean would head to."

Chloe nodded before reaching for a notebook next to her. "I made a list last night of all the places Dean talked about most… Anywhere that was especially important to him." She rose, walked over to his desk and dropped it in front of him. "You'd know better than me which he might've hit."

"I dunno about _that_ …" Cocked brow, Bobby stared down at it a moment. "Seems you know him a little better than I might'a thought."

She half-smiled. "Contrary to whatever you might've concocted in your head about us… We're not strictly physical." She shrugged, glancing away. "To be honest… I told him things about myself I've never told anyone. And I like to think he did the same back."

Brows furrowed, he looked back down at the paper, tapping it slowly. "And in between all this _light_ reading and list making, you managed to get some sleep in _where?_ "

Pursing her lips, she blew out a breath before tucking her hands in her jean pockets. "You hungry? 'Cause I make a mean breakfast…" She started backing up toward the kitchen. "My skills might be a little rusty thanks to the road trip staple of diner food, but…"

"Hold it," he ordered, eyes boring into her sternly. "You tryin' to tell me you haven't _slept_ since you got here?"

Rolling her eyes, she frowned. "In not so many words, yes."

He blinked, shook his head. "And before that? You catch up on some sleep on that pricey jet or what?"

Her jaw clenched, eyes turned away purposely.

"Girl, you better answer me."

Sighing, she turned to stare at him. "I thought we agreed on a tiny bit of civility between us."

"We did. Which is why I'm tryin' to gather up some damn concern for ya." Drawing back from the desk, he wheeled his way over to her. "Now how long's it been since you got any rest?"

Licking her lips, she turned her eyes a way. "Not long."

"Define _not long_."

Seeing he wasn't budging, she finally admitted, "Since I last saw him."

" _What?_ " he half-shouted. "That's been _days!_ "

"I'm aware!"

"You outta your damn mind! You're lucky you're not sufferin' from exhaustion!"

She snorted. "You'd be surprised what an IV of coffee can do for you."

He shook his head. "No way." Lifting an arm, he pointed darkly out the door. "You get your ass into one of those beds upstairs and get some damn sleep in you."

She opened her mouth to argue but he huffed, stopping her. "I may be in a wheelchair, Sully, but don't think I don't have a few tricks left up my sleeve," he growled warningly. "Last thing I need is you fallin' over on me half-dead. When we finally get Dean back to his senses, I don't need him gettin' homicidal 'cause his _soul mate_ went and got herself exhausted to death."

"You don't understand…" Running her hands through her hair, she shook her head. "I _can't_ sleep."

"Yeah? Well, _tough_. 'Cause you ain't worth crap when your head's not in the game."

"Bobby—"

"No. Don't argue with me. Now march yourself up those stairs, young lady!"

Frowning, she glared back at him. "Jeez, ten minutes ago you were the grumpy pseudo-friend and now you're my _dad_."

"If I was your dad, you'd listen better." He nodded at her sharply with his chin. "Get!"

Arms crossed over her chest, she left the room, calling back over her shoulder. "See if I try to make you breakfast in the future!"

"Puh," he muttered. "I could cook circles around you!"

Climbing the stairs, she snorted disbelievingly. "Yeah, we'll see, Singer!"

He could hear her mumbling even as she crossed the room and for the next two hours, he could hear the springs of the old bed as she tossed and turned, but eventually… eventually he was pretty sure she finally got some shut eye. And despite the mess they were dealing with, the all too many bibles and texts he'd had to go through, the fact that Dean was out to do something downright _stupid_ , and he couldn't find Sam, Bobby smiled to himself. He couldn't say he trusted her, but damn if he didn't kinda like her.

…

Chloe couldn't sleep. It wasn't that she didn't _want_ to. She did. _Desperately_. But her body just wouldn't give in. It hurt, it _ached_ with exhaustion, but lying there, her eyes burning from tired, she tried and she tried and… _nothing_. She tried laying on her back, her sides, her stomach; nothing worked. She tried with her legs up, with extra pillows, no pillows, she tossed the blanket, added another, it didn't change a thing. She felt broken, lost, and beyond all that, just plain sad. Like this undeniable understanding of true mourning was so close at her heels she couldn't escape it. She thought it might be Dean's death. Like it was close, waiting to finally take him and destroy her at the same time. Or maybe that was just the lack-of-sleep talking, she didn't know.

She knew she lay in that bed for hours; she closed her eyes, relaxed her body, hoped it might help somehow, but she thought it might've made things worse. She kept moving to one side, searching out his body. She kept breathing in expecting his scent and got nothing but Bobby's laundry detergent on the pillows. There were no bracing arms around her, no hard chest for her face to bury against, no heat to envelop her or leg slid between hers. She couldn't feel his chin atop her head, the faint whiskers of his jaw catching on her hair. She even missed his snoring and the sound of his heart against her ear.

What was worse, he wasn't the only one she missed.

She missed hearing Sam scoff and snicker at their expense. She missed bringing along a second sweater because she knew he'd fall asleep with his face against the cold window, _again_. She missed the fact that he almost always ordered the same thing as her at the diners they stopped at and how Dean mocked them for it. She missed the way the two brothers could laugh about something, some memory or inside joke after just a look at each other. Or how Sam always tried to invite her in on it so she didn't feel left out. She even missed how sometimes he still looked suspicious of her while simultaneously desperately hoping she was the real deal, because he wanted his brother to be happy, for once.

She missed the smell of the Impala, of leather and pine air freshener and the Winchester boys. She missed the way she could sprawl out comfortably in the backseat, her head on the door's armrest, her laptop at her fingers, her music fused through her earbuds battling with Dean's Metallica or whatever mullet rock idol he'd put on that day. She missed it like she'd lived it all her life and yet it was only a week, seven days, give or take, of just her and them. And it was never really easy; even the good days had the bad waiting in the background. But she wouldn't have given it up, wouldn't have given them up, for anything.

She waited until the sun fell and then she dragged herself from the bed, adamant that she would convince Bobby she'd slept… and maybe prove to him that there was no way he was a better cook than her. She smiled at the thought. It'd no doubt turn into a shouting match, but she'd have fun nonetheless.

…

Sam was going to kill his brother. Right after he knocked some sense into him. He'd lost a day; getting a ride out wasn't easy when the whole town was in shock and mourning. And he'd been warned that a lot of the cars were rigged to blow, taking out demons nearby should a full blown war fall upon them. When he finally got outside the city limits of Blue Earth, thanks to the good pastor, and his cell phone read a few bars, he called Bobby, an angry rant ready to burst from his mouth.

Bobby answered on a laugh. "Yeah?" he said through his chuckle.

For a moment, Sam was stunned. He just wasn't used to hearing amusement these days, he guessed. "Yeah, uh, Bobby?"

"Sam!" he cried then, louder, in a voice Sam knew well. "Where the hell've you been!"

"Uh, long story. Look… I'm getting a ride to a town just outside Blue Earth. You think you could buy me a bus ticket on the other end?" He winced, hating having to ask for this.

He scoffed. "I can do you one better… You'll have a ride there tomorrow morning. And you two can get on Dean's trail."

"How did you-?" He paused, considered. "Chloe."

"Yeah, seems the girl's good for somethin' after all." He snorted. "Called me up after Dean got a hold of her, said he went off the deep end and he was lookin' to say yes to Michael."

Rubbing his forehead, Sam sighed. "Yeah, I know… He left me back in the motel. Told me he was going to get bandages and-"

" _Bandages?_ You boys all right?"

He laughed dryly. "Good as can be expected." Shaking his head, he stared up at the ceiling of the old station wagon. "Look… I need to catch up to Dean and fast… I figure I know where he's headed but he's got a good head start on me."

"Then you'll just have to drive _fast_ ," Bobby muttered.

"Yeah."

"Look, you'll start this off tomorrow. Get some rest and you two can put your heads together in the morning."

"Yeah, right, it's just… _Who_ are you sending to get me?"

"The right person for the job." With that, he hung up.

Sighing, Sam stared out the window, brooding.

"Look, I'm sorry I can't drive you farther," David told him.

"No." Sam turned, frowning. "I get it… Your town really needs you. I wouldn't have bothered you with this at all if it weren't for…"

"Your brother."

"Yeah…" Blowing out a breath, he shook his head. "I knew he was gonna try something, I just…"

"Hoped he didn't?" David nodded. "That's faith for you… You put it all in someone and even when you know it won't turn out right, you still can't help but hope it does."

"Dean is… He's been sacrificing himself his entire life and I guess…" Sam smiled sadly. "He's tired; I get that, but… I need him to fight."

"What you need and what he needs are two very different things…" David looked over at him, frowning. "Then again, what Dean needs might be something he doesn't even know he does yet… Could be that his being tired is clouding that."

Sam snorted. "What he needs is Chloe and he got rid of her before she could change his mind."

David looked over wonderingly.

"Oh, his, uh… Soul mate?" he answered, lifting a shoulder.

David smiled slightly. "I see. And he sacrificed her, thinking he was saving her, I'm sure."

"Yeah, that's his _way_ …" he scoffed.

"I understand the appeal, but then… I'm a man of faith. I always believed that in the end God would be merciful and take care of those who were sacrificed." He winced, expression trembling but then cleared his throat to shed himself of his sadness.

Brows furrowed, Sam nodded. "I'm sure Dean thinks he's doing it for the rest of us too… He's never really done anything for himself… It's always been about the family or the world or…" He sighed. "Or whoever else needed saving."

"And you don't think this will work out in the end? Whatever it is he's doing?"

Staring at him apologetically, Sam shook his head. "No… I think if we want this apocalypse to end the right way then we've gotta stay the path."

"And what path _is_ that?"

He shrugged. "Some days, I'm just not sure anymore…"

The car fell into silence then, thoughtful, heavy.

…

"What the…?" Bobby shook his head abruptly. "You got a hard one for spices or somethin'? That don't go in there!"

Chloe chuckled. "Being that I'm female, I can't _get_ a hard on for anything." Rolling her eyes, she held the spice jar out of his reach, sticking out her tongue. "And excuse me for wanting a little _flavor_ in my food."

"There's plenty of flavor if you'd stop drowning it out!"

"I think hunting has dulled your taste buds," she told him with a faux sigh. "Diner food does that."

"Contrary to the boys' way of livin', I had it a little better… You'd be surprised what I can do with a hotplate," he muttered, rolling himself over to check the pasta noodles.

"Fancy," she replied, half-grinning. "I might have to try that in future… Won't be able to make any casseroles, but it's still better than greasy burgers…"

Bobby nodded toward the spaghetti sauce pot. "Give that a stir," he told her. "You sound pretty sure there'll be a next time…"

Chloe glanced at him, smile fading, and stirred the thick red sauce. "Maybe I'm an optimist."

He stared at her a long while. "Somehow, I don't think you are."

Sighing, she moved to lean back against the counter, arms crossed over her chest. "If this is going to turn into another one of your 'I don't trust you, stay away from Dean talks…'" She shook her head. "You might as well save your breath." She stared at him levelly. "I can agree he's being an idiot; a sacrificial, martyr, _fool_ … But that doesn't mean I'm going to walk away. So this is the first sign that the hero's having a little trouble believing he can win…" She scoffed. "Not the first good guy to fall prey to lost hope." She shrugged. "I told him I'd be with him through this whole thing and I will be."

Bobby pursed his lips for a long moment before shaking his head. "You got chutzpah."

She lifted a brow slowly. "Thanks…?"

He snorted. "Sammy's stuck in a town just outside Blue Earth. I'm sure you can figure out where exactly through your fancy laptop satellites. It's a little over two hours drive from here. Think you're up to it?"

Her lips curled slowly. "You're gonna trust not one but _two_ Winchesters in my care?"

"I'm gonna trust that you're the real deal. You prove me wrong though, Sully, and you won't like the outcome," he drawled seriously.

She grinned. "Since I have nothing to gain from their loss, I can safely say I'm not afraid of your wrath." She stepped forward. "Your spaghetti sauce, on the other hand…"

He scoffed. "Put some meat on your bones and hair on your chest."

She blinked. "Let's avoid that second one."

Reminded she was a woman, he rolled his eyes. "Just serve it out!"

…

When Bobby said he was sending someone to pick him up, Sam hadn't counted on the snarky blonde sitting in the driver's seat of the beat-up truck. Hopping out, she walked around the front with a smile, tipping her head at him. "How you holding up?" she wondered in greeting.

"Honestly…" He shook his head. "I never thought I'd be this happy to see you."

She snorted, smiling to herself. "You really know how to flatter a girl, Sam."

He winced. "No, oh, man, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" He waved his hands around, shrugging his wide shoulders. "I just meant that with how this all started, I never really thought of your part in it… Then again…" He frowned. "I never thought my brother would ditch me in Blue Earth while he went on some suicide mission to save the world."

"Yeah…" she sighed, eyes falling. "Can't say it was the first thing that came to mind when I met you guys either."

Closing his eyes, he sighed. "I'm really sorry; I just keep making this worse for you."

"No…" She shook her head. "Well, yeah, but…" She grinned. "Look, we can talk it out on the ride all right?"

"Yeah…" He glanced at the van and then back at her. "I don't wanna pry, but… I mean, didn't you and Bobby have a mutual dislike for each other?"

"Yep," she said, reaching down to grab up his bag, smiling when he took it back from her as if the weight of it might topple her to the ground. "Still do."

"Okay…" His brows fell heavy over his eyes. "Then _why_ …?"

"Why am I picking you up and not him? Why would he send me when he thinks I might very well be a trick from Satan himself?" She grinned, nodding him into the truck before she circled it and hopped in the driver's seat. "We've come to an understanding," she told him, revving the engine before peeling backwards and off toward the main road. "He gets to be a suspicious bastard all he wants… as long as I get a chance to prove I'm not the bad guy."

"And you have this written down in a contract somewhere?" He narrowed his eyes skeptically. "Because I hardly see him opening his doors to you willingly."

She chuckled. "Verbal contract. He doesn't like putting his signature on anything for obvious reasons." She shrugged. "I guess the old saying still goes… Keep your enemies closer and all that."

Half-smiling, Sam nodded. "He's just careful."

"I know…" She looked over at him. "But careful isn't going to keep Dean from doing something stupid."

"And what _is?_ " he wondered skeptically.

"We are," she told him stubbornly. "Because if that jerk thinks he can tell me he loves me and then ditch me when the apocalypse comes knocking, he has another thing coming."

Sam turned, wide-eyed to stare at her. "He… He _said_ that."

"Yeah," she scoffed. "And then hung up before I could even reply!"

"That's…" He cocked his head, thinking, stuttering for the right words and finding none. "Wow."

Chloe leaned her elbow against the window sill, propping her head up, and then glanced at Sam from the corner of her eyes. "I'm gonna need your help here, Big and Tall. I don't know where he's going…"

Brows furrowed in concentration, he nodded. "You got a map?"

She smirked. "I can do you one better." She motioned to the floor and he pulled up a bag. "That's the world's most connected laptop. Anything you need, anywhere in the world, and my baby will find it for you." She cocked a brow. "I guarantee it."

Flexing his fingers, he grinned and got to work.

If Dean thought he was just going to walk off into the woods and die like some old dog, he was _very_ wrong.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XVIII.**

It took them four days to find him. Visiting his old haunts, hearing from various people whether they'd seen him and how long ago. They were a good two days behind him, but it helped that they just slept in the car. Or, at least, Sam did. Chloe didn't appear to be getting or needing any rest. She didn't ask for it and he hadn't seen her stop once. He wanted to assume that she'd pulled over at some point and while he'd slept, she had too. They'd driven in shifts but even when he was behind the wheel, she was on her laptop, searching out Dean's cell phone and watching for any new problems to arise.

Stopping at a diner for some lunch, Sam dragged out his cell while Chloe left for the washroom and dialed Bobby's house.

"Yeah?" he answered on a yawn.

"Hey," Sam replied.

Bobby sighed. "You guys any closer to findin' him?"

"Yeah…" He rubbed his forehead. "We're just stopping for something to eat and then we're back on the road. Shouldn't be much further. I think I know where he's going now."

"You run into any problems?"

Eyes darting around, he made sure Chloe wasn't nearby. "She's not sleeping," he confided.

He cursed. "It showin' yet?"

"Yet? You mean she wasn't _before_ she picked me up?" he exclaimed, smiling uncomfortably when people turned to stare in his direction.

Bobby blew out a long breath. "I sent her off for some rest but I'm not sure she got any."

"This can't be healthy," Sam sighed worriedly.

"'Course not. I can't believe she's lasted this long."

"How long can a person go without sleep before…?" He didn't want to finish that sentence.

"I dunno… I know she wasn't sleepin' before she got here and I don't think she got any while she _was_ here. You two've been on the road four days… She could drop any second."

"What do I do?"

"What _can_ ya do?"

"I-I-I dunno!" he struggled, eyes wide. "Sleeping pills? Talk sense into her? _Warm milk!_ "

Bobby snorted. "Look, best idea I got is findin' Dean. She said the last time she slept was with him… Maybe it has somethin' to do with this soul mates crap, I dunno!"

"Okay, but…" He looked around, frowning. "Isn't there a-a sleeper hold or something? I mean, I can't just _ignore_ it!"

"Do I _look_ like a damn Vulcan?" he muttered. "Leave her alone. Take the wheel and hope she falls asleep. Best you can do 'til you find your idiot brother."

Running a hand over his face, he nodded. "Okay…" Hearing someone try and get his attention, he turned to see the cashier holding their bag of food. "Food's ready, she'll be outta the bathroom soon. I better go."

"Keep me updated."

He nodded, hanging up the phone, and crossed to grab their lunch.

Chloe came out of the bathroom, a hand at her temple.

Sam stared. "You all right?"

She looked up, smiled wanly for his benefit. "Yeah, sure…" She looked at the bag. "Just hungry."

He sighed, but said nothing as they left to climb into the truck once more. Taking the brown bag to hold in her lap while he started the truck back up and turned back onto the highway, she pulled out each of their Styrofoam packed meals. "Grilled chicken sandwich _without_ tomatoes," she said, putting his to the side. "Side salad with raspberry vinaigrette." She smiled suddenly, chuckling under her breath. "You know what Dean would call that right?"

"The fruitiest lunch he'd ever known?" Sam replied, grinning.

"Exactly." Dragging her own out, she laid it in her lap. "It doesn't help that I got the same thing, except _with_ tomatoes."

He scrunched up his nose. "I can't have them on chicken…"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure it's a real day-ruiner."

He glanced back at her, pursing his lips in amusement.

"Kay, sandwich or salad first?" she asked.

"Sandwich," he replied, holding a hand out. "That I can at least hold myself."

She handed it over to him. "We'll switch when you're done. That way I can hold your salad and eat my sandwich."

He lifted a brow. "I think we've perfected road trip dining."

"Down to an art form," she replied.

Taking a large bite of his burger, he shifted in his seat, stretching his back and rolling his neck to get the kinks out. Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he considered talking to her about her current sleeping habits. Salad in her lap, she was staring out the window, eating slowly while deep in thought. Chewing, he wondered if it'd be overstepping a boundary. Bobby said to leave it alone, that getting Dean back would hopefully solve the problem. But would it? What caused her sleep deprivation and why? Ever curious, he tried thinking of a way to casually bring it up.

"Must be hard," he said, glancing at her and then back the road. "Learning to sleep in a vehicle." He half-smiled. "I grew up on it, but you…"

She looked over at him, brows lifted. "For a guy who lives a life full of secrets, you're not very tactful."

He frowned.

"You're wondering why I haven't been sleeping." She smiled humorlessly. "Been talking to Bobby too, I imagine?"

He sighed. "We're worried."

She shook her head. "If I start to hallucinate, _then_ you can worry."

"Chloe…" He scowled. "How long's it been, _really?_ "

She bit her lip, closing the top on her salad and shuffling it back into the bag. "Since that night… Since I woke up to hear you die and see Dean with a gun in his face."

His brows furrowed. "Is that what's keeping you up?"

"It's part of it, I guess…" She looked anywhere but at him. "And the other part is that he's not there…" She swallowed tightly, smiling to hide her sorrow. "I got used to him holding me, I guess."

Sam sighed. "After Jess…" His jaw ticked. "Whenever I fell asleep, all I could think about was her in pain…" He shook his head. "I used to wake up and reach for her only to come up empty…"

Chloe turned toward him. "I feel like I lost him even though I know he's out there."

Determination crossed his face and he nodded. "We'll find him… I promise."

…

One box. One medium sized cardboard box was meant to hold everything that mattered to him, everything he wanted to leave behind. And the worst part was he'd probably need only _half_ to get everything inside. He folded his favorite brown leather jacket, dropped it inside and fingered the keys to the Impala before grabbing up his bottle of whiskey and taking a seat at the motel room table. Using the offered stationary, he started penning out his farewell. Some part of Dean couldn't quite accept that this was what it had come to. All the shit he'd been through, all the things he and his family had fought against and now he was willingly checking out. Hell. If he hadn't lived it, he wouldn't believe it.

There were only four people in his life, still alive, that mattered enough for him to write personally. And what the hell was he supposed to say to Cas, anyway? How was he supposed to apologize or ask for understanding or any of that shit? He almost missed the unemotional angel that'd first showed up; that guy wouldn't expect any goodbye letter. And then there was Bobby… Good, ol' faithful Bobby. Probably a better dad than John ever was and now Dean was supposed to explain on a sheet of paper why this was the right thing to do… Were there even words for that? Would Bobby get it? He could see him now… Getting all gruff and irritated, shouting at him that he was a whole new level of idjit.

He half-smiled, shook his head and took another drag from the whiskey bottle.

Two left. Sam and Chloe. Sam was easier than he expected. He'd gotten good at telling his brother what was what and how he'd deal with it. The good part about a suicide letter was that he didn't have to worry about the reply; he didn't have to wonder what Sammy would say back or how he might talk him out of it. By the time he got it, it would all be over. But Chloe… How the hell was he supposed to tell her that he'd gone and fucked up so bad his only way out was to do the exact opposite of what he'd said he'd do? How was he supposed to reassure her that it would all be okay in the end? That yeah, he'd left her, but one day… hopefully soon, they'd be together again? He was out of hope and walking on a tether line of last chances. For all he knew, Michael would fuck him over and bad. And he couldn't lie and tell her different.

So he wrote the only thing he knew.

 _I'm sorry._ He hoped it covered it all. Because he was damn sorry for a lot. For dragging her into this mess. For pushing her away. For loving her and becoming the burden he always was. For wanting more and not giving it to her. For failing her and the world and everybody that mattered. He was just fucking sorry.

Taking each letter, he brought them to his box, dropping them on top of his jacket and keys. And then he held his favorite chromed Colt 1911 in his hand, fingers flexing around the ivory grips. He checked the magazine, more out of instinct than anything, and left that with his few belongings as well before he closed and taped the box shut, marking it with Bobby's name and address. All there was left now was his half bottle of whiskey and a whole lot of remorse. He filled his glass, brows furrowed, and lifted it to his mouth.

"Sending someone a candy gram?" a familiar voice asked from behind.

He stilled, lungs in his throat, and turned slowly, his eyes wide in surprise at seeing none other than his very irritated and unrelenting little brother. Glass lowering, he wondered, "How'd you find me?"

Sam tugged his hands free of his jacket. "Well, you were gonna kill yourself, right?" he asked, not expecting an answer. "It's not too hard to figure out the stops on the farewell tour." He smiled humorlessly. "Had a little help." He stared at him, frowning. "Next time you wanna check out, you might not wanna call your girlfriend and let her know… She tends to get protective and pissed."

Dean flinched, jaw ticking. "She with you?"

"Does it matter?"

He looked away. "I'm not gonna kill myself…" he muttered.

"No?" Sam asked, unconvinced. "So, Michael's _not_ about to make you his muppet?"

He looked away, lips pursed, and then lifted his glass to drain his whiskey.

"What the hell, man? This is how it ends?" He shook his head. "You just walk out?"

Dean grabbed up his bottle. "Yeah, I guess…" he muttered quietly, pouring himself another drink.

"How could you do that?" Sam asked, face curling in anger.

"How could _I?_ " Lifting his head, Dean stared at him darkly. "All you've _ever_ done is run away!" he yelled.

"And I was _wrong!_ " He shook his head meaningfully. "Every single time I did."

Dean swallowed, eyes falling, executing a careless expression.

Taking a deep breath, Sam held his arms out in a pleading gesture. "Just… _please_ … Not now." He stared, arms falling uselessly at his sides. "Bobby is working on something. And Chloe… She…" He shook his head. "She still believes Cas was right, Dean. She still thinks we've got a chance if you'll just… get your head outta your ass!"

"Oh, really…" he muttered, "What's Bobby got, hm? And th-this _fate_ thing, Sam? Really? You think Chloe's _heart_ is gonna change this around for us?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "This isn't a damn _Disney_ movie, man! Love doesn't triumph over evil o-or turn the bad guy good, all right?" he hollered, walking across the room.

"How do you _know?_ " Sam stepped forward, brows furrowed. "When has life _ever_ been predictable for us, huh? What if she's right? _What if_ she's it? What if loving her is enough?"

"How?" Dean shouted, throwing his arms up. "How has it changed anything?" He looked around. "I love her! And _look_ , look around us! Nothing is different!"

"So it doesn't kick in just because you admit it! The journey isn't over yet, Dean!"

"And when is it?" Brows knotted, he stared. "When's it gonna end? 'Cause I'm sick and tired of it… I'm just… I'm _done_."

"And if you do this… What if it doesn't work out the way you want it to? What if Bobby's got the right answer and you just _gave up!_ "

"What? What does Bobby got? What's he figured out this time?" He stared, unconvinced. "You got nothin' and you know it."

Eyes falling to the floor, Sam sighed, shoulders slumping.

Dean shook his head, cynical as he turned his eyes away and then drained his glass once more.

"You know I have to stop you…" Sam told him quietly.

He sniffed, dropped his glass on his box of memories and then stepped away from the bed. "Yeah, well, you can try…" Breath shaking as he exhaled, he added, "Just remember, you're not all hopped up on demon blood this time."

Sam frowned, looking almost apologetic. "Yeah, I know…" He sighed. "But I brought help."

The sound of wings echoed in the room and with an angry expression, Dean turned around, only to be met with Castiel's narrow-eyed glare. Two fingers raised, touched Dean's forehead and with a sharp inhale, his eyes blurred before he was taken from the room, reappearing at Bobby's.

 _Hell_.

…

Chloe stood outside the open motel room door, hands stuffed in her pockets. She listened to every word exchanged between the two brothers, wincing at the raw emotion caught between the two. She knew when Cas appeared to take Dean back to Bobby's and waited silently as Sam exited the room to meet her.

"Cas got enough angel juice to get Bobby's truck back?" she wondered.

Sam lifted a brow. " _That's_ what you're wondering?"

She half-smiled at him. "It's a lot less complicated."

He laughed shortly. "Ignoring this isn't going to make it any easier."

She stared up at him. "I know…"

"You sure you're ready for this?" he wondered, brows furrowing in concern.

Shrugging, she forced a grin. "I'll survive."

"Chloe…"

She shook her head. "Really, Sam…"

He sighed, looking as though he wanted to say more, but Castiel reappeared. "I was promised copious amounts of caffeinated drink in exchange for this favor," he reminded.

Chloe grinned. "I like you more and more, you know that." Crossing the space between them, she hooked her arm with his. "I'll make you the best coffee you've ever had. Just take us back to Bobby's."

He stared at her a moment and then nodded, taking both her and Sam and returning them to Singer Salvage, thankfully in the kitchen rather than the office where she could clearly hear Bobby and Dean shouting at each other.

She winced. "I'll make coffee. You two go separate them."

With a frown, Sam nodded, leaving the kitchen to get in between them.

When the shouting decreased, she found she couldn't hear his voice at all anymore. She thought it would help. His anger at being brought here, at forcing him out of his plans, had only made _her_ angry. Some part of her wanted to strangle that big idiot for actually thinking of giving in. And another part just wanted to hold him, to drown in that familiar heat and the scent of him and let her worries drain away. She focused on setting up the coffee pot, of getting her favorite kind put together. When Cas reappeared next to her, he stared impatiently at the slow drip of dark brown coffee.

His jaw twitched, eyes narrowing.

"You'd have gone for Dean even if I hadn't promised coffee," she said, not a question but a statement.

He raised his gaze to stare at her. "He was making the wrong choice."

"Last I checked, we were team Free Will… That kind of encourages the idea that whatever choice he made, he made it on his own."

Cas blinked. "You think giving in to Michael was right?"

She shrugged, leaning back against the counter. "No."

His brows furrowed. "Then why are you suggesting we shouldn't have stopped him."

"I'm not." She half-smiled. "I'm just reminding _you_ that as much as you try to convince _yourself_ why you're still here, the truth is… Dean is your family, too. And you're trying to save _him_ just as much as you're trying to save the rest of humanity."

Lips pursing, he looked away. "Is the coffee ready yet?"

She nodded slowly, stepping between them to drag out the pot. "You have yours?"

He produced his coffee pot, the same he'd stolen from her.

"I'll be sure to get that monogrammed with your name later," she teased.

He simply stared, head tipped in question.

Rolling her eyes, she poured the steaming hot coffee into his pot and then replaced it under the trip, preparing the coffee maker for another pot, so the rest of the house might have a mug or two.

Cas turned to leave, his beloved coffee in hand, but then stopped and looked back at her. "Sometimes, we have to hurt our family to help them… And sometimes those people are thick-headed bastards that don't see the truth no matter how hard they look."

She grinned slowly. "You're getting better at that insult thing."

His lips twitched in a shadow of a smile and then he was gone, returning to the room where Sam and Bobby were no doubt arguing with Dean.

Frowning to herself, she turned back to stare at the coffee pot once more. All this time she'd spent wishing she was with him, wanting and needing to have him back in her immediate vicinity. And now he was only a room away and she felt anxiety well in her stomach, as if she couldn't face him. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She hated that this wasn't some easy fairytale; that in the end, she wouldn't get her prince and ride off into the sunset in her fairy-godmother issued carriage. At best, she'd ride off into war in a 1967 Impala, with a brooding Dean Winchester and death well in sight.

The worst part was… she didn't even want to run away.

She'd take whatever she got, be it some painful execution or happily ever after. So long as she spent it with that hard-headed _bastard_ that was her soul mate.

…

"Yeah, no this is good, really," Dean complained, pacing back and forth across the room.

Sitting at the desk, Bobby and Sam continued to look through papers and biblical texts while Cas stood against the far wall, holding his coffee at his chest, glaring from beneath heavy brows at Dean each time he walked past him.

"You know, eight months of turned pages and screwed pooches, but _tonight_ …" He waved his hand, pointing his finger at the floor with fake enthusiasm. "Tonight is when the _magic_ happens." He grinned humorlessly, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting back against a cabinet.

"You ain't helpin'," Bobby told him, not looking up from his work.

"Yeah, well, why don't you lemme get outta your hair then?" he replied, cocking a brow and staring at him.

Bobby looked up from his papers, staring at him with wide, wondering eyes. "What the hell happened to you?"

Kicking himself up off the cabinet, he walked forward a few steps. "Reality happened." He let his arms fall down at his sides. "Nuclear's the only option we have left! Michael can ice the devil, save a _boatload_ of people!"

"But not _all of 'em!_ " he reminded. "We gotta think of somethin' else."

Dean looked from him to Sam. "Yeah, well, that's easy for _you_ to say. But if Lucifer burns this mother down and I coulda done somethin' about it…" He backed up, sitting back down at the cabinet and motioning to himself as he growled, "Guess what, that's on me!"

"You can't give up, son," Bobby murmured, brows furrowed sadly.

Dean sighed, smiling sadly as he stared down at the floor, chuckling humorlessly. "You're not my father," he sneered, looking up at and pinning Bobby with a deadly stare. "And you ain't in my shoes."

Bobby sighed, eyes falling.

Sam turned, jaw clenched, and stared at Dean scornfully, shaking his head.

Turning his gaze away, Dean stared at the ceiling, eyes burning.

Taking a deep breath, Bobby reached over and pulled a drawer open, taking out his gun and holding it aloft for Dean to see before he snapped it down on top of the desk.

Brows furrowed, he stared back wonderingly.

Reaching into his pocket, Bobby pulled out a round and held it between his thumb and forefinger, staring at it.

"What is that?"

"That's the _round_ I mean to put through my skull," he drawled in reply, never taking his eyes from the tip of the bullet. Slamming it down on top of the desk, he growled, "Every morning I look at it, I think… Maybe today is the day I flip the lights out." He paused, stared a moment later and then turned to look over at Dean. "But I don't do it."

Dean and Sam stared at him, their faces pinched.

"I _never_ do it. You know why?" He stared and then shouted thickly, "Because I promised _you_ I wouldn't give up!"

Swallowing tightly, Dean stared back, brows cinched above his eyes.

Bobby glared levelly back.

Tension was rife through the room before suddenly Cas' coffee pot fell from his hands, shattering on the floor while he reached up and cradled his head, bowled over as pain riddled his senses.

"Cas, you okay?" Sam wondered, leaning back in his seat and looking over to him questioningly.

Rubbing his temple, Castiel sighed. "No…"

"What's wrong?"

He paused, brows furrowed as he listened. "Something's happening…" he muttered.

"Where?" Dean asked.

Cas glanced at him and without another word, disappeared from sight, sending papers fluttering.

The three men looked around; each tense in wait for what was coming next.

…

Chloe heard the yelling, heard Bobby as he admitted wanting to commit suicide. She flinched, gripped the counter tight beneath her fingers. And seconds later, she heard glass shatter and new instinctively that something was happening to Cas, that he'd dropped his favorite coffee pot. She wanted to run into the room, to find out what had happened, but something kept her back. Nerves, fear, anticipation. She couldn't face him yet; she just… _couldn't_.

Playing with his necklace, hanging safely hidden beneath her shirt and now dragged out for her to hold, she took an odd sense of comfort in it.

The last time she'd seen him he'd told her it was all a lie; the feelings, the intense connection, the whole shebang. She was just a distraction, he'd said. And she knew now that he'd been lying; that it was all to get her away from him, to keep her from sticking around where he felt the worst of danger was. But that didn't make it all that much easier. The last they'd spoken, he'd been ready to do the opposite of what she knew he wanted and he'd said he loved her. Maybe it was those words that made her flinch now. Was it just because he was about to give in? Did he really mean it? Was it all just part of Fate's grand scheme and not _real?_ And would he take it back now? Knowing that she'd had a hand in dragging him back to the game he'd longed to end already.

All she knew was that just one room over stood Dean Winchester. And she didn't know if she wanted to kiss him or kick his ass.

…

When Sam entered the room to throw away the dustpan full of glass, she was staring out the kitchen window, chewing on her lower lip.

He tipped his head, glancing behind him to see if the coast was clear before crossing the room to stand beside her. "You okay?"

Startled, she turned to look at him. "Hm? What? Oh, uh, yeah, I just…" Her eyes bounced around the room as she tried to put her thoughts back together. "Sorry, I just…" She shook her head, lifting her hand in the air apologetically. "A lot on my mind."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know that feeling."

She smiled lightly. "I bet you do."

"You know, if this is too much…" He lifted a shoulder. "You don't have to see him right now." He stared at her searchingly. "To be honest, he doesn't know you're here, so…"

She licked her lips. "Yeah, I know, I just…" She swallowed tightly, lifting a hand to rub at her forehead. "Are you hungry? Contrary to what Bobby thinks, I'm not a bad cook."

He smiled, letting her change the subject. "Sure. I could go for something."

Her shoulders fell in relief. "Great. Uh, you partial to anything?"

"No. I'm not picky."

"Except when it comes to tomatoes on chicken," she replied knowingly.

He grinned. "Right, except that."

"Well, you two seem _chummy_ ," Dean's voice interrupted, drawing their attention toward him as he stood in the doorway, his jaw clenched as he glared darkly at Sam.

Frowning, Sam rolled his eyes. "Territorial, much?" he muttered under his breath.

Chloe stared, eyes wide, and then took a hesitant step toward him.

Attention drawn to her, Dean's jaw released, shoulders slumping and eyes softening. He half-smiled at her. "Hey…"

Footsteps picking up pace, she reached him quickly, but instead of the drawn out kiss Sam expected to see between them, reminiscent of the first time they'd met in that shady bar, Chloe managed to surprise him. Rearing her arm back so quickly he hardly had time to react, she punched Dean square in the face, sending him off balance. Cradling his chin, he shook his head and licked his teeth as if to check for blood. "Well… Nice to see you too," he grumbled.

"Ass," she muttered back before stomping past him and out of the kitchen.

He turned, watching her go, face curling with remorse before he glanced back at Sam, who couldn't help a grin. Sighing, Dean crossed the room, motioning to the fridge Sam was now leaning against. "'m gonna get a beer, you mind?" he asked, motioning his hand at the fridge.

"You sure you don't want an ice pack?" Sam snarked back. "Ego of yours has gotta be bruising quickly."

Dean glared, waiting.

Finally, Sam sighed and stepped out of the way.

From where he stood now, he could see Chloe through the open doorway, at Bobby's side, leaning down and talking to him over a text he'd found.

Suddenly papers were fluttering around again and catching everybody's attention.

Cas appeared, a body tossed over his shoulder. "Help!" he exclaimed.

"Boys!" Bobby shouted.

Cas laid the man down on a couch and stepped back.

Chloe followed Bobby over as they approached the unconscious new guy, glancing up at Dean and Sam as they entered the room.

"Who is it?" Bobby wondered.

Expressions furrowed in confusion, they stared down at the mud covered man.

"That's our brother," Sam managed thickly.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XIX.**

"That's our brother," Sam managed thickly.

Dean turned to look at Cas, whose face was curled in disbelief and confusion, before returning his gaze to the unconscious Adam Milligan.

"Wait a minute…" Bobby stared up at them, brows furrowed. "Your brother…? _Adam?_ "

Turning, Dean asked, "Cas, what the hell?"

Dropping two silver spikes on the book covered desk, he told them, "Angels." He stared unblinking at the newly resurrected young man.

" _Angels?_ Why?" Sam wondered.

Cas shook his head slightly. "I know one thing for sure…" He crossed the room and bent, letting his hand hover across Adam's ribs, a yellow glow emanating from his fingers. "We need to hide him _now_."

Eyes opening wide, Adam awoke in pain, gasping for breath and struggling against Cas' touch. Sitting up quickly, he panted, looking at each of the faces around him. "Where am I?" he asked.

"Just, relax," Sam told him, holding an arm out as if to try and be reassuring. "You're safe."

"Who the hell are you?" Adam asked gruffly.

"Well, you're gonna find this a little…" Dean paused, eyes flicking up, and then corrected himself, "A _lot_ crazy but…" He paused, glancing momentarily back at Sam. "We're actually your brothers."

Adam's brows furrowed, falling heavy over his eyes.

"It's the truth," Sam added, "John Winchester's our father, too. See, I'm _Sam_ —"

"Yeah, and I'm sure that's Dean," Adam interrupted, leaning back against the wall.

The two elder Winchester brothers stared in surprise.

"I know who you are," he continued.

Sam glanced around and then lifted an arm wonderingly. "How?"

"They warned me about you," he admitted.

"Who did?" Dean growled.

"The _angels_."

Exchanging a look, Dean and Sam weren't sure what to say.

"Now where the hell is Zachariah?" Adam demanded.

Chloe scoffed. "Hopefully on some angel spit somewhere, getting exactly what he deserves."

Narrow-eyed, he turned on her, mouth open as if to retort and then he paused, staring at her. "Who're you?"

Dean held an arm out, motioning for her not to say a word. "That's not important."

"Right, and I'm the Easter Bunny," Adam muttered, rolling his eyes.

"I'm Chloe," she intervened, taking a step forward, ignoring the glare Dean was giving her. She held a hand out for him to take, half-smiling when he stared at her suspiciously. "I don't bite."

"She's got a mean right hook though," Sam murmured, smirking.

Leaning forward slightly, Adam reached over and shook her hand before crossing his arms over his chest and affecting a careless attitude.

"You thirsty?" she wondered, lifting a brow. "Bobby's got a bottle of whiskey here guaranteed to take the edge off."

He frowned, shrugged, and waited as she crossed the room to pour him a glass, handing it over before she rolled her eyes at Bobby who nodded for her to return to standing next to him. The man was getting pretty protective of her for someone who didn't even like her all that much. Ignoring him, she asked, "Before we start this interrogation, does anybody mind if I get him a towel to clean up a little?" When nobody argued, she turned and left the room to soak a cotton towel in warm water. When she returned, she handed it over, smiling as he nodded gratefully and began washing dirt and mud away.

Sighing, Dean stepped back, reaching over and dragging a chair across for him to straddle, leaning his arms on the back. "So, why don't you just tell us everything?" He cocked a brow. "Start from the beginning."

Cas leaned against a bureau at the back of the room, arms crossed over his chest as he waited to hear the latest tale in an already sideways story. Chloe took a seat between Sam, on the desk, and Bobby in his wheelchair next to it, surveying the young man who'd moved to the end of the couch, head held high even though he looked uncomfortable.

Looking around at each of them, Adam tapped his knee uncomfortably, his other hand holding his glass against his leg. "Well…" he started, unenthused. "I was dead, and in heaven, 'cept it- it, uh…" His eyes fell, a smile curving his mouth. "Kinda looked like my prom," he admitted, looking over at Dean. "And, uh, I was makin' out with this girl, her... Her name was Kristin McGee…" He grinned in memory.

"Mm, yeah, that sounds like heaven," Dean agreed, half-smirking. "Did ya get to third base?" He lifted his brows suggestively.

Sam cleared his throat, staring at his older brother meaningfully.

Biting his lip, Dean lifted a shoulder innocently.

"Just, uh, just keep going," Sam said to Adam, glancing back at Dean as if to tell him to shut up.

"Well, these-these angels, they popped out of nowhere and they told me that I'm Chosen." He lifted an arm as if to shrug it off.

"For what?" Sam asked, brows furrowed.

Adam stared at him seriously. "To save the world."

Dean's eyes narrowed, looking from Adam to Sam and then back again. "How're you gonna do that?"

Adam turned to him and then with all the casual sarcasm available, replied, "Oh, me and some Archangel are gonna kill the devil." He smiled humorlessly.

" _What_ archangel?"

"Michael," he replied simply. "I'm his, uh, _sword_ or vessel or something, I dunno."

"Wh…" Dean laughed in disbelief. "Well, that's insane," he said, shaking his head.

"Not necessarily," Cas intervened.

Eyes wide, Dean turned back to him abruptly. "How do you mean?"

Arms crossed over his chest, Cas stared back at him. "Maybe they're movin' on from you, Dean."

He waved a hand, brows furrowed. "Well that doesn't make sense."

"He's John Winchester's bloodline… Sam's brother." He sighed. "It's not perfect but it's possible."

"Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me," Dean muttered.

Adam rubbed his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Why would they do this?" Sam wondered.

"Maybe they're desperate." He turned to glare at the back of Dean's head. "Maybe they _wrongly_ assumed Dean would be strong enough to withstand them."

"All right, you know what, blow me, Cas," he growled over his shoulder.

"Look, _no way_. After everything that's happened?" Sam interrupted, voice raising. "All that crap about destiny? Suddenly the angels have a _Plan B?_ " He looked around at them. "Does that smell right to anybody?"

"You know, this has been a _really_ moving family reunion," Adam drawled, putting his glass of whiskey on the floor and motioning vaguely. "But, uh, I got a thing, so…

 

Standing up, Sam shook his head. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, no, no, no. Sit down," he told him. "Just listen, okay?"

Adam stared at him, unmoved.

"Please?"

Shaking his head, he moved to and fro before finally retaking his seat. "Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.

"Now, Adam… The _angels_ ," Sam said, sitting back on the desk, motioning his hand for emphasis, "are _lying_ to you. They're full of crap!"

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.

"Five bucks said they told him you'd say that," Chloe said, lifting a brow.

"Yeah, I don't think so," Adam said, staring down at the floor.

"Really? Why not?" he asked, amused.

"Um, 'cause they're _angels!_ "

Licking his lips, Sam turned his eyes up to the ceiling. "Did they tell you they were gonna _roast_ half the planet?"

Leaning with hand on his knee, he nodded. "They said the fight might get pretty hairy, but it is the devil, right? So, we gotta stop him."

"Yeah! But there's _another_ way."

Dean glared up at him irritably.

"Great, what is it?"

"Well, we're workin' on the power of _love_ ," Dean told him with an air of sarcasm.

"How's that goin'?"

Smirking, he looked to Chloe. "Mm, she just rearranged my jaw and I just wasn't _feelin'_ it."

"Maybe next time you won't be such an ass," she replied, glaring.

He scowled. "Excuse me for tryin' to save your life!"

"You're excused!" she shouted back heatedly.

"You know," He grinned darkly, leaning forward in his seat, "You should be _thanking_ me that I got you outta here."

" _Thanking you?_ " she repeated, teeth clenched. "You think you're the first guy to try and pull the I'm-the-hero-you're-the-damsel card on me?" She scoffed. "Maybe if you weren't so busy trying to save _me_ , you'd realize that I was here to help _you_ save everybody else!"

"And what a bang up job you're doin', too!" he hollered, waving his arm around.

"Yeah, I can see these two are gonna love the devil to death any second now," Adam muttered.

"They're not always like this," Sam offered, half-smiling. "Well, I mean… They do argue a lot, but…" He shrugged, shaking his head. "They're soul mates, so…"

"At least I was still in the fight and not running off like some wounded dog with his tail between his legs," Chloe exclaimed, hopping off the edge of the desk and advancing toward him.

"Don't," Dean said warningly, standing from his seat. "Don't play like you could handle this any better than me. 'Cause sister, if you could, I'd give you the reins…" he sneered.

"No, Dean…" Anger melting, she shook her head dejectedly. "You wouldn't. And that's the problem."

Not waiting for him to reply, she turned on her heel and left the room.

Staring after her, Sam sighed, shaking his head. "You just couldn't shut up, could you?"

"She started it," he muttered childishly.

Rolling his eyes, he turned back to Adam. "Look, Adam, you don't know me from a hole in the wall, I know, but I'm beggin' you, _please_ … Just trust me. Gimme some time."

"Gimme one good reason."

Chin falling, he glanced at the floor and then back up, offering, "Because we're blood."

Staring, he swallowed tightly. "You got no right to say that to me."

Sam's brows furrowed.

Looking up at him, Bobby reminded, "You're _still_ John's boy."

Turning toward him, Adam replied, "No, John Winchester was some guy who took me to a baseball game once a year. I don't have a dad," he snapped back, shaking his head. "So we may be _blood_ but we are _not_ family. My _mom_ is my _family_. And if I do my _job_ , I get to see her again." He paused, looking between them. "So no offense, but _she's_ the one I give a rat's ass about, not you."

Dean stared, half-smiling bitterly and then let his head fall.

"Fair enough," Sam allowed, nodding. "But if you have _one_ good memory of dad, just _one_ , then you'll give us a little more time."

Frowning, Adam shook his head.

Sam stared. " _Please._ "

…

Chloe was cooking. Muttering under her breath and calling Dean every name in the book, banging pots and pans around, but still _cooking_. Before the argument and the sudden arrival of Adam, she'd told Sam she'd make him something and she wanted to prove to Bobby she was just as good, if not better, at cooking. And if it helped relieve some of her frustration over Dean, then… Good. Because it was better than taking a skillet to his bloated head.

Chicken, she decided; pan-fried with roasted garlic potatoes and green beans. It'd keep her busy and it'd be delicious. She got to work, chopping and cutting and preheating the oven while she prepared a skillet for the chicken. Instead of thinking about Dean, of his stubborn nature that kept him from accepting any kind of help or support, she focused on food. She prepared a jug of iced tea while the chicken was sizzling and the potatoes were cooking.

"You, uh… You need any help?" a hesitant voice called out.

Her spine went rigid at first, expecting another, more familiar growl. Instead, she turned to see an awkward Adam standing in the doorway.

Relaxed, she half-smiled at him. "You cook much?"

"Since I _died?_ " he replied snarkily. "Not really."

"No? So you weren't catering that forever-loop of a prom in heaven?"

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "I was a little busy."

"Right…" she mused, grinning. "With, uh, Kristy, was it?"

He nodded. "Kristin."

Wiping her hands off on her jeans, she jerked her head toward the fridge. "We've got beer, if you're thirsty. It's watered down, but it does the trick."

He stared warily at the fridge.

"I'll take a drink first and if it's not poisoned Flavor Aid, you're good, okay?" Amused, she reached in the fridge and produced a bottle, twisting the cap off and taking a drag, smacking her lips dramatically. "You wanna time me?" Her brows furrowed in mock confusion. "How long does it take for that stuff to kick in anyway?"

Rolling his eyes, he held a hand out. "All right, point proven."

She handed him the bottle and then stepped back to the stove, readjusting the heat to be sure the chicken wouldn't burn. "So? You never said anything about those culinary skills of yours."

He frowned, crossing the kitchen to stand next to her. "My mom taught me when I was like, I dunno, thirteen." He shrugged. "She worked a lot, to keep us afloat, so I guess I had to learn to cook or suffer through a lot of cold cuts."

"Ah, another latchkey kid…" Flipping the chicken, she looked up at him. "I grew up with my dad, whose work got a lot more attention than I did." She smiled. "I'm not bitter though. We were close, despite what most psychologists might assume."

He half-grinned in reply. "My mom, she was a really good woman. She... She always made time for me; even when she was dead tired from work."

Chloe crossed her arms, tucking them around her waist. "You were studying pre-Med, right?"

"Yeah…" He nodded, moving to lean back against the counter. "My mom was a nurse, it's, uh, it's how she and John met." He frowned.

Nodding, she lifted a shoulder. "I didn't know John."

"Yeah, well, you weren't missing much," he scoffed.

She stared at him a moment, lips pursed slightly. "You know, my mom left when I was just a little kid. For a long time, I thought it was because of this genetic mental problem of hers. That she'd lost it and one day…" She shook her head. "I would, too." Brows furrowed, she sighed. "Turns out, that wasn't it, not really. See, she had this- this… _ability_. Call it mind control or the power of persuasion, whatever you like, but… She could make people do things against their will. At first…" She smiled cynically, "This didn't seem like a bad thing. Who doesn't want to be able to make things happen just the way you want them to?" Raising her eyes, she stared at him. "Until she realized that it could hurt people… That her ability could be _used_ by others to do things she would _never_ want to do." Arms falling, she gripped her hips. "And when my mother realized that she could hurt someone she loved, like _me_ , she went away to save me…" Lifting a brow, she scoffed lightly. "Was it right? I really don't know. I know that growing up, I wished I had a mother and some part of me hated her for just ditching me like that. And a lot of me was _terrified_ that I would be just like her."

Jaw ticking, Adam turned his eyes away. "So what? You're gonna tell me John was just trying to keep me safe?"

She shook her head. "No."

He looked back at her, brows furrowed questioningly.

"I can't tell you why John did anything. I can only tell you that within the last two weeks I've seen things and been part of things that I don't think I could've handled growing up with." She stared at him, meaningfully. "That my childhood, as weird and even lonely as it often was, at least then the monsters in the closet were just part of my imagination." She shrugged. "So maybe they're not the brothers you grew up with and maybe you don't owe them or John anything, but… for whatever reason, you've been given another chance. And as much as your mom would want to see you, I think she'd understand if you took the Winchester route on this one and tried to be a little more sacrificial."

His eyes lowered slowly, a frown forming across his mouth.

She let him mull on that. "I hope you're hungry," she told him, reaching for the oven mitt and opening the oven to pull out the nicely browned garlic potatoes.

"Starved."

She grinned. "Yeah, resurrection does that to you." Winking, she nodded toward the doorway. "Why don't you round up the others and tell Sam he's setting the table tonight."

With a short nod, he turned to do her bidding and Chloe smiled to herself. There was a chance she didn't get through to him at all and she could understand entirely if that was the case. But, she could hope.

…

"We're not sayin' Grace or anything, are we?" Adam wondered awkwardly, sitting down at the long, wood table.

Dean snorted while Sam looked from their youngest brother to Chloe.

"Did you want to?" she wondered.

Adam shrugged. "Haven't since I was like six."

"Not really feeling a whole lot of devotion to God right now, so why don't we skip the praise?" Dean offered, taking his beer from the table to drag back a long drink.

"On that comforting note, dig in," Chloe replied sourly.

"Not bad, Sully," Bobby sighed, looking down at his plateful. "You spice it up too much?"

She smirked back at him. "Excuse me for opening up a new flood of flavors for you, Bobby."

"We'll see." He grabbed up his knife and fork and started cutting through his chicken.

"So, uh…" Sam looked around the table rather nervously. "You used to say Grace, Adam?"

"Yeah…" He looked up from his plate and then over to Chloe and back. "My mom was big on manners and God or whatever."

"What happened after six?" Dean wondered, his tone and expression surly.

Adam snorted. "Work."

"Something I think we can all relate to," Chloe intervened, lifting her brows.

"Where, uh, where'd _your_ dad work?" he wondered, looking over to her.

"He was a plant manager for LuthorCorp when I was growing up," she offered, stabbing a potato from her plate and holding it up for her to eat. "Mm, he was promoted and then fired and then his employer tried to kill him because I was testifying against him for killing his parents, so now he's in protective custody." She grinned at their stunned expressions. "It's all right; he sends me an email every week. He's doing fine on some beach I can't even pronounce with my very nice step-mother."

Adam shook his head slowly. "Is anybody in this place normal?"

"You're officially not allowed to ask that when you've been resurrected by angels." She shrugged in mock-apology.

He laughed, shaking his head. "'Least my first meal isn't too bad."

"Little _spicy_ ," Bobby muttered.

She glared over at him playfully. "You'll eat my spicy food, Bobby, and you'll _like_ it."

He half-smiled at the reference, tipping his head in surrender before taking another bite.

"Seriously?" Dean wondered, looking irritated. "We're going to pretend like everything is totally normal?"

"Given our lives…? This is about as normal as it _gets_ ," Chloe replied, refusing to look in his direction. "I'm thirsty. Anybody want anything from the kitchen?" She pushed back from the table to leave, fisting her hands when they shook. With emotion or anger, she couldn't be sure.

…

"You're an ass," Adam told him bluntly.

Dean frowned back. "Noted," he said, lifting his beer to take a long, dismissing drag.

With a sigh, Adam stood from the table to follow after Chloe, shoving his plate out of the way as he went.

He found her in front of the sink, her hands braced on the counter while she stared out the window. "You, uh, okay?" he wondered.

She turned, her hand rising to wipe at her face as she offered a smile. "Hey, yeah, uh…" She shook her head. "A-Are you thirsty?"

He cocked a brow, slightly amused. "Do you always try and change the subject to drinks when you're upset?"

Her shoulders slumped. "I guess being polite doesn't go far these days."

"Not really. At least not when the apocalypse is staring us down." He smirked, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Makes you feel better though, I _am_ kinda thirsty this time."

She laughed lightly, crossing to the fridge and producing a beer. "You want me to take a sip first, test the poison bullet again?"

He rolled his eyes and reached out to take it from her. With a sigh, he sat back against the kitchen table. "So, you and Dean, huh?" He frowned. "I don't get it."

Putting her attention on gathering up dishes and wiping down counters, she shrugged. "You'd have to ask the naked cupid running around with his bow and arrow to get to the bottom of _that_ one…"

He cocked a brow, picking at the label on his beer. "So that's all it is then? Between you?" He cocked his head questioningly. "Duty?"

She paused, lifting her head, and then dropped her cloth, turning around to look at him. Taking a deep breath, she let it out in a long, suffering sigh. "Honestly?" She shook her head. "No." Crossing the room, she took a seat at the table next to him. "He's been an ass tonight, I know, but… He's got a lot on his plate and the load is heavy. He's _that guy_ …" She rolled her eyes. "The one who takes it all on himself and just won't share the burden." Smiling sadly, she added, "Even if I'm only here to help him."

"So why put up with it?" he wondered, frowning. "No offense, but you could do better."

She chuckled. "You only say that because you don't like him… And you have your reasons, none of which I will try and talk you out of. But…" Her smile gentled. "Dean has a whole other side to him that you haven't seen yet. A side he doesn't even like to admit to himself." Leaning back in her seat, she lifted a shoulder. "And, as unfortunate as it might sound, I really do love him. The good and the bad."

He stared at her a long moment. "Women always go for the idiots who don't know what they have…" he muttered knowingly, eyes turning off.

Reaching over, she squeezed his shoulder. "Not Kristin," she reminded.

He laughed, shaking his head. "She was a _really_ good kisser."

"I'd expect no less from heaven," she agreed.

"Yeah…" He sighed, sitting back. "You ready to go back in there?" He rubbed his stomach. "That chicken was almost as good as my mom's."

She nodded. "Sure… Just let me clean up a bit."

Shaking his head, he stood up. "Leave it. I'll get it after."

Cocking a brow, she rose from her seat. "Listen to you… What kind of girl says no to that kind of charming?"

He smirked. "An unfortunate one, I'd guess."

Chuckling, she followed him out of the kitchen, musing that he was more like his brothers than he even knew.

…

A few hours later, Bobby was looking through papers with Chloe, Dean was brooding somewhere in the house, and Sam was nowhere to be found. Having finished the dishes, Adam sat at the kitchen table, anxious and feeling like he was wasting time. He argued with himself over whether trying to make a break for it was smart or not. Chloe was nice and Bobby, while the gruff sort, wasn't bad. Even Sam was all right, if not a little pushy. But Adam couldn't fight off the underlying feeling that he wasn't supposed to be there, that he was meant to find Zachariah and finish what he started. Maybe Chloe was right and he should give these people a try, but, hell… His jaw ticked. He really missed his mom. And maybe just seeing her, knowing that she really was okay, would make this all worth it.

Staring into the office, he watched as Bobby rolled back from his desk, reaching for another book. Sitting on the couch that Adam had earlier woken up on, Chloe perused through papers, her brows furrowed. She was beautiful; in that sweet, understated way. Natural. Her blonde hair fell across her face and when she looked over at Bobby, there was a quirky kindness in her eyes that made Adam's stomach clench. It was wrong, and _stupid_ , but he couldn't help a stab of jealousy at his eldest half-brother. Dean didn't know what he had in her and if it were up to him, he'd walk her out of there and share with her Michael's promised heaven. His mom would like her, he thought.

Snorting to himself, he shook his head. Why was even thinking about this? Rising from his seat quietly, he walked quickly toward the door, his footsteps near silent. His hand was at the door handle before he heard the knowing voice of Sam Winchester, "Goin' somewhere?"

With a sigh, his shoulders fell. Turning back to look at him, he shrugged, motioning behind him rather awkwardly. "Out for a… beer." He cursed his lack of thinking; he'd already had three since arriving thanks to Chloe's need to offer a drink every time things got tense.

"Great," Sam replied, clapping his hands together. "We got beer." He motioned behind him. "Have a seat."

Lifting his brows, he sighed. "Great." Crossing the room, he took his seat at the small table once more. "You know, you pitch this whole _dewy-eyed_ bromance thing, but the truth is I'm on lockdown, aren't I?"

Exhaling heavily, Sam brought a couple beers over, dropping one down across from him. "Adam…" He cleared his throat, dragging out a chair and taking a seat. "You may not believe it… but dad _was_ tryin' to protect you." His brows raised in emphasis.

Turning, he stared at him, unconvinced. "Yeah, Chloe already pitched me that story."

"Did she?" He frowned thoughtfully. "So you know he was trying to keep you from all this to give you a good life? A _better_ life?"

Leaning back in his chair, he rolled his eyes up. "Yeah, well, I guess the monster that ate me didn't get that memo."

"You remember that?"

Narrowing his eyes, he nodded. "Oh yeah."

Sam stared down at the table, wincing, before he admitted seriously, "Still, trust me, the one thing worse than seeing dad once a year… was seeing him _all the year_."

Adam stared back, unflinching. "Do you _know_ how full of crap you are?"

Honestly stunned, he replied, " _What?_ "

"Really." Silence prevailed for a moment before he continued. "Ya see, it was _me_ and it was my _mom_." He shook his head. "That's it. She worked the graveyard shift at the hospital, I cooked my own dinner, I put myself to bed. So you can say whatever you want about our dad but the truth is I would've taken _anything_."

Sam stared, understanding dawning, and nodded ever-so-slightly.

"All right?"

He licked his lips, eyes turning away momentarily. "Look, if we had known we had a brother—"

"Well, you didn't," he dismissed, "so…"

"We would've found you," he assured, staring at him wide-eyed and earnest.

Adam scoffed, looking away and shaking his head in disbelief.

"Look, I can't change the past, I wish I could…"

He looked back at him, still feigning carelessness.

" _But_ …" Sam lifted a hand in a gesture of peace. "Here on out—"

"What?" he interrupted. "We gonna hop in the family truckster? Pop on down to Wally-World?"

He scoffed, looking away, flicking his brows up. "Tell ya one thing, attitude like that…"

Adam lifted his brows, encouraging him to continue.

Sam shook his head, saddened. "You'd fit right in around here."

Wasn't that just the unfortunate truth?


	21. Chapter Twenty

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XX**.

Sam sighed, staring at the basement door with an annoyed Cas at his side.

"You really think putting him in the demon dungeon is going to _help_ the situation?" Chloe wondered, appearing behind them.

"Until he realizes his mistake, he's _not_ to be trusted," Cas replied in a low tone.

She frowned at him. "I've _really_ gotta get you a new coffee pot."

His eyes narrowed. "Yes."

Sam snorted, turning from the angel to Chloe. "We can't risk it." He shrugged, mouth pursed. "Whatever his reasons are for doing this, we've gotta change his mind… Letting him go to Michael isn't an option."

"And what about Adam?" Crossing her arms, she cocked a brow. "He's not exactly riding the brothers-for-life train and I don't think he trusts any of us enough to say no."

"He seems to trust _you_ …"

She rolled her eyes. "It's a harmless crush. If he's anything like Dean, I'm just one of many in the female gender that would catch his eye."

"Chloe…" He stared at her seriously. "You know that's not how Dean feels."

"Right now…" she scoffed. "I don't know Dean well enough to say _anything_ about his feelings." With that, she turned on her heel and returned to help Bobby with research.

Sighing, Sam shook his head. "Look, I know locking Dean downstairs doesn't seem humane, but… it's all we've got for now."

Cas stared back at him. "I'm not arguing."

He frowned. "Good."

Turning, they walked down the stairs leading into the basement, turning the lock on the heavy steel door and pushing it open to see a pissed Dean staring back at them.

Arms hanging loosely at his sides, his brows fell heavy over his eyes as he stared back at Castiel. "Well, Cas, not for nothing but the last person who looked at me like that…" He pursed his lips. "I got laid."

Sam looked back at the narrow-eyed and obviously enraged angel and cleared his throat. "Uh, Cas, why don't you, uh, keep an eye on Adam?"

Dean lifted his chin, winking at him mockingly.

Cas waved his arm abruptly, slamming the steel door shut with a bang.

Sam turned back to Dean, only to see him look around and lift his arms in question. "Is this really necessary?"

"Well…" He scoffed. "I mean, we got our hands full, Dean."

Brows knotted, Dean nodded slowly, staring at him with unconvinced eyes.

"A house full of _flight risks_."

"I'm not lettin' him do it," he replied simply.

" _Adam?_ No, I'm-I'm not either."

Looking away, he shook his head. "Nah, you're not gettin' me." Turning, he walked away from him slowly.

"No, I-I _get_ you. _Perfectly_. But I'm not lettin' _you_ do it either."

Running a hand down the back of his head, he sat back against a desktop, eyes closed and a heavy sigh escaping him. Letting his eyes open, he stared at the floor a moment, before raising them toward his brothers, the wet glaze showing the emotion he often hid. "The kid's not takin' a bullet for me," he told him, shaking his head ever-so-slightly.

Hand on his side, Sam lifted a hand in pleading gesture. " _Dean_ — _"_

"I'm serious," he interrupted. "I mean think of how many people we've gotten _killed_ , Sam…" His voice fell in an emotional growl. "Mom… Dad…" Forehead cinched, he shook his head quickly. "Jess, Jo, Ellen… Should I keep goin'?"

On a slow inhale, he replied, "It's not like we pulled the trigger."

Staring at him rather incredulously, Dean said, "We might as well have."

Pursing his mouth, Sam's eyes narrowed, his jaw ticking.

"How many more does there have to be?" His shoulders fell. "Huh? Would Bobby do it? Is that what it takes for this to stop?"

He scoffed, turning his face away in anger.

Eyes falling closed once more, Dean shook his head. "I'm tired, man." He looked back at him and then away, his jaw slack. "I'm tired of fightin' who I'm _supposed_ to be…"

"You don't even _know_ who you're supposed to be! You're taking the word of a bunch of serve-themselves angels, Dean!" he exclaimed.

"And maybe they're _right!_ "

"Right? About _what?_ All they've done so far is try and kill us and roast _half_ the world!" He threw his arms up. "Tell me, _please_ , what have the angels done for us lately?"

"Why is this so damn hard for you to get, huh?" He stared at him, eyes narrowed. "I've been kickin' ass since I was way too young, you know what that's like, so why's it so damn difficult for you to get that I don't wanna do it anymore?"

"Because…" he sighed, shoulders slumping. "It's who you are, it's what you _do_. Giving up? I mean, that… That's not _you_."

"And what's _me_ , Sammy? Huh? Living this shit life, on the road 'til I die? Alone and in some falling-apart motel room?" Tiredly, he ran a hand down his face. "I don't wanna go out like dad… Chasing after something like a man possessed."

"You won't be like dad…" Sam's brows furrowed. "Dad was—He was messed up after mom died. He was single-mindedly out to kill Azazel or himself in the process. Dean…" He stared at him seriously. "You still _have_ Chloe."

"Yeah?" Dean scoffed bitterly. "So she clocked me 'cause she loves me so damn much?"

He rolled his eyes. "You deserved that."

"Maybe…" He smirked bitterly. "Or maybe this whole be-the-vessel, save-the-world thing is as easy as handing it over to the next in line, right? I'm not the vessel, maybe I'm not Chloe's soul mate either…" He shook his head, eyes wide with sarcasm. "Hey, Michael's offering up my job to Adam, maybe he'd like Chloe, too! He's already acting like he's her knight in shining armor." He waved his arm. "Have at it."

Arms crossed over his chest, Sam sighed. "Are you seriously getting jealous over our half-brother because he's _nice_ to Chloe?"

"Nice?" he scoffed, scowling. "He chased after her like a lost puppy!"

"Yeah, because _you_ had to get bitter at the dinner table!"

"Well excuse me for being realistic!" he drawled, irritably.

"Realistic?" he scoffed. "Or just a sad jerk?"

He glared at him. "Both."

Pursing his lips, Sam shook his head. "Look… I know you think this is the right choice, but Dean… Please? Just _think_ about this."

"I _have_." He leaned back, jaw set determinedly. "That _kid_ is not fighting Lucifer. Michael wants a meatsuit and I'm it." He nodded shortly. "Done."

Clenching his jaw, he paused before asking, "You think maybe you could take a half second and stop trying to sacrifice yourself for a change? Maybe we could actually stick together!"

Taking a deep breath, his head fell, chin hitting his chest. With quiet reservation, he admitted, "I don't think so."

Eyes wide, Sam wondered, "Why not?" Met with only a sad shake of his head, he asked, "Dean, seriously! Tell me. I-I wanna know."

Head bowed, he breathed, "'Cause I just…" He shook his head, looking up, defeated. "I-I don't _believe_."

"In _what?_ " He held his hands out, pleading for understanding.

Head turning side to side, he struggled to reply. "In me, in God, i-in… in _you_ …" He swallowed tightly.

Sam swallowed thickly, looking away.

"I mean, I don't…" He paused a second, tried to get his voice under control. "I don't know if it's gonna be demon blood…" He inhaled sharply. "Or some other _demon chick_ or what, but… I do know they're gonna find a way to turn you."

"So you're sayin' I'm not strong enough..."

"You're angry," he replied, brows jumping on his forehead in emphasis. "You're _self-righteous_ …"

Sam clenched his teeth, shaking his head and averting his eyes.

"Lucifer's gonna wear you to prom, man, it's just a matter of time."

"Don't say that to me," Sam whispered thickly. "Not you…" Eyes burning with tears, he inhaled shakily. "Of _all people_ …"

Dean stared up at him. "I don't want to…" He half-shrugged. "But it's the truth."

He looked back at him, hurt.

"And when Satan takes you over, there's gotta be somewhere there to fight him. And it ain't gonna be that kid…" He scoffed humorlessly. "So it's gotta be me."

Sam sniffed, nodding slightly, and then turned and left without saying another word.

Climbing the stairs, he felt the fear and the worry and the sadness eating away at his insides. He'd been playing the strong one, but deep down, knowing that not even _Dean_ could believe in him, tore at him. Usually, it was Dean who wanted to keep fighting and Sam was tired, done with the life. But this was bigger than him, bigger than all of them. There'd be no normal life to go back to, no hunting life to continue with, no nothing. And it would destroy half the world in its wake. So yeah, Dean might not trust him or believe in him, but damn it, he _was_ strong enough… Wasn't he?

As he closed the door behind him, he found the lights out around the house, Adam asleep on a cot, and Cas watching him from a doorway.

Bobby rolled over and asked, "How's he doin'?"

Sam scoffed under his breath, shaking his head.

He looked up at him, frowning. Nodding, he asked with knowing, "How _you_ doin'?"

He stared back, unable to put into words the hurt he was feeling.

Cas turned, leaving them there in their silent understanding.

…

Chloe was in the kitchen, a place she found herself a lot lately. With Adam being watched by the others, she found herself feeling useless. Her eyes had begun to blur with each religious word she read and her body was feeling heavier with each ticking second. Just below, Dean was locked down in the demon bomb shelter Bobby had built awhile back. She knew the reasons why and she even understood them, but some part of her still revolted against the idea. He wasn't the enemy, but he was making himself one to their cause. Bowing her head, she cradled it in her hands. Her heart was warring with her mind again; a battle her heart usually won, only to be trampled on irrevocably.

She wouldn't let him out, she knew that much. Not because she felt he was wrong, but because she felt like he was on the wrong path, the kind of path he'd regret. For his own good, she told herself. It didn't make the ache in her chest hurt any less, though.

"You don't look good," the deep, growly voice of Cas interrupted.

Lifting her head quickly, she closed her eyes as her vision spun. "Wow, thanks… You sure know how to compliment a girl, Cas."

He stared at her, eyes narrowed. "I can make you sleep," he told her, not so much a threat as a promise.

And what a sweet, comforting idea that would be. The demanding seduction of sleep lured her; to close her eyes and find peace once more… Maybe if things were different. Only there was so much going on, so many problems and people to think about, she couldn't let herself give in to that.

"Thanks. But I'll survive."

He stared a moment longer, his lips pursed.

"Really." She looked up at him, smiled. "I can sleep when I'm dead, right?"

He only shook his head, turning on his heel and leaving.

"Really gotta work on his conversation skills," she muttered to herself.

…

When Cas went downstairs to see Dean, it was for a few reasons. Most of them only served to make the anger inside him burn hotter. Dean was hurting his most trusted ally, his own brother. With words or actions, true or not, he was slowly bringing Sam down with him. And if Sam fell, so soon would the others. Exhaustion was beginning to show in Chloe; if she didn't get sleep soon, she'd be of no use at all. He could admit that it wasn't only her importance to the war that made Cas worry; she was a good person and she treated him as an equal rather than a superior angel. It shouldn't surprise him, seeing as who her soul mate was. He couldn't remember a time when Dean had ever really taken the fact that Castiel was a true angel of the Lord as all that important. But at least she didn't argue with him at every end; instead she seemed to provide wisdom and understanding. Perhaps, like a mother, he thought.

He went down the stairs hurriedly, annoyed and wanting to talk sense into the man who had become his friend and ally, who had been his reasons for deflecting from the angels, from turning his back on God himself. But as he approached the door that locked Dean away, he heard a bang.

"Dean?" he called out, pressing his ear to the door but hearing nothing.

Opening the window cover, he could see only a mess; what looked to be a struggle between Dean and some unseen force. "Dean?"

Still getting no response, he finally gave in and opened the door, walking inside to see the wreckage spilled across the floor. Brows furrowed, he looked around, searching for either Dean or his attacker.

"Cas?" he heard, and turned, only to see Dean open a locker door where the banishing sigil was marked in blood. Slamming his hand down on it, Dean sent him away with a cry of pain and in a glow of white light.

He was gonna kill that ass!

…

Not long later, while Sam went looking for the now freed Dean, Adam lay in a deep sleep, dreaming of a children's park, empty. Swings with no legs pumping; eager to get higher, higher. Slides with no giggling kids rushing down, the wind blowing their hair back. Jungle gyms and monkey bars, free of running feet and reaching hands. The gloomy clouds overhead spoke little of adolescent happiness and more of his current problems; even an eerie fog rolled near the ground. Elbows on his knees, his hands stuck up, one overlapping the other, as he rubbed his chin back and forth against his locked fingers. Not a person was in sight; hardly a sound could be heard. Still, he stared ahead, waiting…

"Your mom's not coming, you know…" a voice said, drawing his attention to a balding mad sitting smugly at his side on the bench. With a smirk-like smile, he looked up at the sky and sighed. "This is the park where your mom took you on her day off, right?" He waved at their surroundings. Nodding, he admitted, "She's not coming. Not yet." As Adam turned to look at him, he met his hopeful face with an encouraging one of his own, "But she will. Soon."

Adam stared at him, brows knotted. "You're Zachariah, right?"

"I am," he replied in a lazy, smug drawl. He added a moment later, in a tone much darker, "You weren't where you were supposed to be, kid."

He looked away, shifting in his seat. "Yeah, I know."

"Can't quite zero in on you either. So lemme take a wild guess…" He frowned. "You're with Sam and Dean."

Adam licked his lips, eyes darting from the ground and then back up. "Yeah."

Sighing, Zachariah shook his head in anger. "Didn't we tell you about them?" Adam looked to him. "So you know you can't trust them, right? You _know_ Sam and Dean Winchester are psychotically, irrationally, _erotically_ co-dependant on each other, right?"

Shoulders slumping, he looked around, sighing. "I don't know…" He looked back at him, lips pursed. "They said a few things about you."

"Really?" He cocked his head, sneering, "Trust me kid, when the heat gets hot, they're not gonna give a flying crap about you. Hell, they'd rather save each other's sweet bacon than save the planet."

He looked away, brows furrowed. "Dean, he, uh… There's this woman with him, Chloe… I can't… I don't see him letting the world burn if it meant she'd go too…" He turned staring at Zachariah, needing his questions answered.

The angel scoffed. "Dean Winchester is a misogynistic bastard with a tendency to sleep with anything that _moves_. If you think he'll change his mind just because some woman in a skirt's turned his head, you're wrong."

"She's not like that," he shot back, jaw ticking.

Zachariah cocked his head, brows furrowed. "Remember something, Adam… Those people you just met don't care about _you_ …" He leaned toward him, whispering, "They are not your family… Understand?" When Adam didn't reply, he reached over and slapped his arm in a show of brotherhood. "Now, you wanna see your mom again or not?" He smirked.

Adam woke abruptly, his eyes wide.

There was only one word on his tongue, one answer to that question, one thing to do.

…

"The end is nigh… The apocalypse is upon us!" a man preached in front of a bar, holding the bible up in the air. "The angels talk to me and they ask me to talk to you. The apocalypse—"

Dean crossed the rain-slicked road and approached the dark-bearded man mid-sentence. "Hey…" he said, drawing his attention as he came to a stop in front of him. "I'm Dean Winchester; do you know who I am?"

"Dear God!" he cried.

Brows furrowed, he nodded. "I'll take that as a yes. Listen, I need you to pray to your angel buddies and let 'em know that I'm here."

Falling to his knees, he held his hands up, pressed flat on either side of his bible. "Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name—"

"You pray too loud," Castiel's dark voice interrupted, reaching over and touching the man's shoulder, sending him in a dead faint to the ground.

Turning quickly, Dean was met with Castiel's reaching arms that grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him into the alleyway, pinning him roughly to a cement wall.

"What're you crazy?" Dean grunted through grit teeth.

Yanking him off one wall only to slam him against the opposite one, he hollered in reply, "I rebelled for _this?_ "

Bouncing off the wall and falling into nearby trashcans, Dean hardly had a chance to take a breath before Cas dragged him back up and began punching him in the face, once, twice, before leaning in and snarling, "So that you could surrender to them?"

Dragging him back from the wall once more, he threw him again against the other, lifting his knee and ramming it into Dean's stomach. Holding him by the collar of his coat, he ignored Dean's plea, "Cas, please!" instead tossing him once more against the other wall.

Holding him against it, he leaned in and growled, "I _gave_ everything for you and this is what you give to me?"

Rearing them back, he turned him and held him up on his unsteady feet before dragging back his arm and punching Dean square in the face, sending him stumbling back. Kicking him in the face, Cas sent him further back until he hit the chain-link fence at the back of the alley and fell to the ground, rolling onto his side and struggling to breath. Walking toward him, Cas cocked a brow, sneering down at the man he'd once called friend, his hands fisted menacingly.

Dean looked up at him, a pitiful mess of blood. "Do it," he said, staring at his fist. " _Just do it!_ " he shouted.

He stared, breathed in and out, and slowly his hand unfurled before he reached over, touched Dean's shoulder and put him to sleep.

It would have to do. For _now_.

…

"Bobby," Sam said through grit teeth, "What do you mean Adam is _gone?_ "

Lifting his hands in a what-can-you-do gesture, he asked, "Should I say it in Spanish?"

" _Adam se ha ido_ ," Chloe sighed.

Shaking his head, Sam looked from her to Bobby. "He's gone _how?_ " Running his hands through his hair in frustration, he half-shouted, "What the _hell_ , Bobby?"

He reared his head up and glared darkly at Sam. "Watch your _tone_ , boy!"

Rolling his eyes, Sam bit his tongue and looked away.

"He was right in front of me and he disappeared into thin air."

"He's not joking," Chloe admitted, shaking her head. "There one minute, gone the next."

"Because the angels took him," Cas intervened, appearing in the room with a limp and sleeping Dean hanging from his one arm tossed across Cas' shoulder.

"What the hell happened to _him?"_ Sam wondered.

Cas stared back, unmoved. "Me." Turning, he tossed Dean down on the cot Adam had recently vacated.

Sighing, Chloe backed up into the kitchen and began running warm water into a bowl, grabbing a cloth and dipping it inside to wet.

Rolling into the room, Bobby asked, "What d'you mean the _angels_ took him? You branded his ribs, didn't you?"

Turning back, Cas sighed. "Yes."

Walking past them, Chloe took a seat on the cot next to Dean, placing the bowl on the nightstand and wringing out the cloth before she began dabbing at his face, careful to wipe the blood away without putting too much pressure down. "Which means Adam probably gave up where he was," she sighed, rather disappointed.

"He must have tipped them," Cas agreed.

"How?" Bobby wondered.

"I don't know," he sighed. "Maybe in a dream."

"Well, where would they have taken him?" Sam wondered, worriedly, his eyes wide.

Cas looked away thoughtfully before knowing crossed his face.

…

In a beautiful room with gold trim and religious paintings, Adam sat at a table housing a plate of cheeseburgers and a silver bowl filled with his favorite beer. Reaching for a burger, he drew it over off the pile and pulled back the silver wrapping before taking a large bite.

"I see you and your brother share the same refined palate," Zachariah mused.

Swallowing before he'd fully chewed, Adam burped, wiped his mouth and then replied, "So, uh…" He motioned his arm out. "You ready?"

"For what?" the angel wondered, brows furrowed.

"What d'you mean, _for what_?" he scoffed. "For Michael."

Cocking his head, Zachariah inhaled sharply, remembering. " _Oh!_ Right. About that…" Raising his arms, he said, "Look, this is never easy but I'm _afraid_ …" He clasped his hands together in his lap. "We've had to terminate your position at this time." He stared back glibly.

Adam lowered his head an inch. "Excuse me?"

"Hey, don't get me wrong. You've been a hell of a sport. Really!" He lifted his hand in an o-k sign and clicked his tongue. "Good stuff," he told him, winking. "But the thing is, you're not so much the 'chosen one,' as you are…" He used visual quotations, brows heavy over his eyes before brightening as he added happily, "A clammy scrap of bait!"

Pointing his finger down at the table, Adam argued. "But what about the stuff that you said? I'm supposed to fight the devil."

He nodded, frowning. "Mmm… not so much." Brows lifting, he added brightly, "Hey, if it's any consolation, you happen to be the illegitimate half-brother of the guy we _do_ care about…" He smirked. "That's not bad, is it?"

He stared up at him from dark eyes. "So you lied? About everything?" He sighed, turning his head away.

"We didn't lie… we just avoided certain truths to manipulate you."

Under his breath, Adam muttered, "You sonuvabitch."

"Hey!" He held his arms out, chuckling. "How do you think _I_ feel? I'm the one who's gotta put up with that dumb, slack-jawed look on your face…"

Raising his head, he firmed his lips and glared.

"Kid, we didn't have a choice," Zachariah told him simply, a smug smile in place. "The Winchesters got _one_ blind spot and it's _family_." He widened his eyes in emphasis. "See, Sam and Dean, they're gonna put aside their differences and they're gonna come get you. And that's gonna put Dean…" He put his hands down against the table. "Right here." He stared at Adam. "Right where I need him." With a pump of his fist in the air, he hopped off the table. "This is the night kid!" He held his arms out from his sides. " _Our_ night!" He cocked his head, smiling. "Michael's seen it. The tumblers _finally_ click into place and it's all because of you." He shrugged. "And me," he added, buttoning his suit jacket. "But who's keeping score?"

Standing up abruptly, Adam declared, "Yeah, I'm not gonna let you do this!"

"Cool your jets, Corky," Zachariah soothed, hand held up to stop him. "Sit down, we're doin' it together."

Listening, more because he had no idea what the angel before him could really _do_ if he didn't, he retook his seat.

"Plus, you still get your severance," he assured. "You still get to see your mom, okay?" He smirked slowly. "And hey, I'll even throw in that hot blonde of Dean's you were eyeing, _huh?_ " He nodded suggestively. "I was gonna have to off her soon anyway if she kept up with her plan… Convincing Dean that the power of _love_ would save us all?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Now I'm not one to laugh at people's poorly executed plans, but…" He chuckled lightly. "Okay, I am… Loving that piss-poor excuse for a hero is one thing, but getting him to love you _back_ …?" He sneered. "She'd have a better chance up in heaven with _you_. Am I right?"

Jaw clenched, Adam shook his head. "Why should I believe you?"

He stared, cocking his head. "You know what? I keep hearing this…" He flapped his fingers in imitation of too much talking. "But what I want to be hearing is this…" He pointed his closed hand at Adam and in a split-second, he was bent over the table, spewing up thick blood. "Yeah," he said brightly, while Adam groaned in pain. "That's better."

…

Dean woke to find himself handcuffed to a cot, safely locked back up in Bobby's safe room. Head aching, he narrowed his eyes, squinting out into the darkness of the room.

"How ya feelin'?" Sam asked, drawing his attention.

With a grunt, he rolled onto his side to sit up. "Word to the wise… Don't piss off the nerd angels."

Sam's head fell, eyes staring at his hands knotted in front of him.

"So how's it goin'?"

Inhaling slowly, he looked away, licking his lips. "Adam's gone."

Dean stared at him, eyes wide.

"Angel's have him."

He stared, brows furrowed with intense irritation. " _Where?_ "

He sighed, cocking his head. "The room where they took you."

Running a hand down his mouth, he frowned. "You sure?"

Sam nodded. "Cas did recon."

"And?"

 _"And_ the place is crawling with mooks. Pretty much a no-shot-in-hell… Hail Mary kind of thing."

Sighing, Dean turned away, brows quirked. "Ah, so the usual," he muttered. "What're you gonna do?"

He stared at him a moment and then exhaled loudly. "For starters… bringin' you with."

"'Scuse me?" he asked, incredulously.

Standing, he crossed to unlock Dean's cuffs. "There's too many of 'em. We can't do it alone and, uh, you're pretty much the only game in town…" Tossing the key away, he sat back against a bureau across from him, hands on his thighs.

"Isn't that a bad idea?" Dean asked, rubbing his wrists.

"Cas and Bobby think so," he sighed. "Chloe's pretty much indifferent, but, uh… That could be because she's so exhausted I'm surprised she can even function." He shrugged. "And me, well… I'm not so sure."

"Exhausted?" Dean asked, brows furrowed. "How the hell'd that happen?"

"I'd tell you to ask her but she doesn't wanna talk to you, so…" He shrugged his big shoulders.

Jaw ticking, he looked away. "You try and save somebody's life," he muttered.

He scoffed disagreeably. "That's not what you were doing, Dean…"

Lips pursed in a scowl, he looked back up at his brother. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah…" Sam shook his head. "Maybe, deep down, there was some part of you that thought it was a great idea. Get her away from you and yeah, maybe she'll live longer. But another part, a darker part, just didn't want to add her to the body count next to _your_ name. And worse… You thought getting away from her might actually make you _stop_ loving her." He shrugged, grinding his teeth. "So you can play the martyr all you want, but you know that the truth is… You were scared." He stared, letting those words sink in. "You were scared that she would love you back and some big happily ever after would be in sight just before she got blown to kingdom come and you'd have to admit it… You'd have to admit that you couldn't save her and that maybe, just _maybe_ , you couldn't save _any_ of us. So why bother trying, right?"

Jaw ajar, he muttered coolly, "Yeah, well, you'd know me better than I would, right?"

"Yeah, actually…" He stared at him seriously. "I do."

Turning away, he shook his head. "Doesn't matter though, does it? 'Cause they're right…" Looking back, he stared through thinned eyes. "Because either it's a trap to get me there to _make me_ say yes, or it's not a trap and I'm gonna say yes anyway." He cocked a brow, turning his head in a half-nod. "And I will. I'll do it. Fair warning."

Brows furrowed, Sam pursed his lips and shook his head. "No you won't."

Dean only stared back, unconvinced.

"When push shoves, you'll make the right call."

Licking his lips, he sighed. "You know, tables were turned, I'd let you rot in here… Hell, I _have_ let you rot in here."

"Yeah, well," he sighed, "guess I'm not that smart."

"I-I don't get it…" He struggled, brows furrowed. "Sam, why are you doin' this?"

"Because…" He scoffed under his breath. "You're still my big brother."

Eyes falling, he stared down at the floor, nodding slightly.

…

Chloe shook her head, walking in between Cas and Sam, as the three of them plus a moody Dean _appeared_ on a sidewalk. "Does anybody else feel under-weaponized for this fight?"

"Up to me, you wouldn't even _be_ here," Dean muttered in reply.

"And if it were up to Bobby and Cas, you'd be chained to a _cot_ , so let's all keep our opinions to ourselves until Adam is safely out of harm's way," she retorted quickly.

He scoffed but didn't argue, instead asking, "Where the hell are we?" as he looked around at the rusted out warehouses and overgrown weeds on either side of the walkway.

A plane flew overhead, the noise sharp in the quiet of their surroundings.

"Van Nuys, California," Cas replied stiffly.

Eyes searching, his brows furrowed. "Where's the beautiful room?"

Cas nodded forward. "In there."

Unconvinced, he wondered aloud, "The beautiful room is in an abandoned muffler factory in Van Nuys, California?"

"Where'd you think it was?"

He held his arm out. "I-I dunno. Jupiter? A blade of grass? Not…" He sneered, "Van Nuys…"

"Tell me again why you don't just _grab Adam_ and shazzam the hell out of there," Sam wondered.

He cocked his head, explaining, "Because there are at least five angels in there."

His brows lifted in surprise.

"So? You're _fast_ ," Dean argued.

"They're faster." Tugging his tie loose, he looked away, sighing. "I'll clear them out. You three grab the boy." He turned toward the door. "This is our only chance."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait… You're gonna take on _five_ angels?"

Turning back to him, Cas said simply, "Yes."

Dean looked from him to Sam to Chloe and then back. "Isn't that suicide?"

"Maybe it is," He stared darkly at him, "but then I won't have to watch you _fail_."

Dean flinched.

"Sorry, Dean. I don't have the same faith in you that Sam does." He stared a moment longer before asking, "Chloe?"

"Hot liquid caffeine," she replied with a sad smile, lifting a pot up for him to see.

He nodded thankfully, producing an x-acto knife from his pocket. "I drink, you cut… Ready?"

Pursing her lips, she nodded, trading the steaming pot for the knife. "Hello nightmares," she muttered.

"What're you gonna do with that?" Sam wondered.

Cas only glanced at him before nodding to Chloe and tipping back his coffee.

…

When Castiel stepped into the dark warehouse, he wasn't expecting a warm reception.

Crossing the room, he made his way to the shabby looking office in the center of the cement floor. He was reaching for the door when he felt it, eyes widening. He jumped out of the way just seconds before the angel at his back could kill him, out of the way of the silver stake that struck through the air between them. Instincts jumping into overload, he attacked. Reaching up, he caught the man's arm and brought it down, slamming the spike through his leg, satisfied when he heard the crackling. White sparks flickered, but it wasn't enough. Yanking it out as the angel cried, he attacked again and after a short battle for the stake managed to force it center into his opponent's chest. A bright light emitted; highlighting his scared and pained face.

Breathing heavy and armed with his one weapon, he turned, waiting. The whispers of muffled voices sounded as the others approached him. He walked in circles, looking, searching them out, and finally three men and a woman approached, each ready to fight with their sword-like silver spikes in hand.

Adrenaline, rage, the selfless desire to _help_ coursed through his blood. He dropped his weapon to the ground in a clatter before asking them in a growl, "What're you waiting for? _Come on…!_ "

They advanced, snarling, only to see him tear open his shirt and press a hand to the angel banishing sigil he'd had Chloe carve into his chest. And in cries of pain, through a burst of blinding white light, they were all forced away.

Cas included.

…

Outside, Dean, Sam and Chloe listened to the fight inside, ears pressed against the wood slats of the graffiti covered doors.

Reaching across, Dean pulled open the door to look inside, finding it empty. "Last chance to get outta here, Goldi," he said, glancing back at Chloe, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed as if he dared hope she would say yes.

She stared back, determined.

With a sigh, he ordered Sam to, "Watch her," before stepping inside the factory and crossing the eerily quiet cement floor. He passed a limp body near the small, abandoned-looking office occupying the center of the warehouse and approached the door, eyes warily darting every which way for any sort of attacker. Finally, he reached for the handle and turned it, eyes widening in surprise as it opened to reveal the beautiful room. He hardly took the time to absorb the awesome sight. Instead, seeing Adam on the floor, he hurried toward him, glancing back only once when the door closed behind him. "Adam! Hey!"

Gasping, Adam looked up at him, his chin wet with blood.

Kneeling next to him, Dean grabbed his shoulder.

"You came for me," he said in surprise.

"Yeah, well, you're family…" he muttered, pulling him up off the floor.

"Dean…" He grimaced in pain. "It's a trap."

He nodded shortly. "I figured."

They were hardly two steps before Zachariah appeared, "Dean, please. Did you really think it would be that easy?"

Dean glared back at him. "Did you?"

Sam advanced from behind, an angel approved stake in hand, ready to kill Zach once and for all.

Hardly surprised, he turned, waving Sam's arm out of the way, sending the spike flying and with a flick of his fingers threw Sam across the room and into a gold and brass divider, crashing to the floor with his heavy body atop it.

"Sam!" Dean hollered.

"You know what I learned from this experience, Dean?"

"Very little," Chloe interrupted, sneaking up behind him and slamming the angel spike straight through Zachariah's leg, smirking as he fell to his knee on the floor. Hovering above him, she held it within two hands and brought it down swiftly.

Snarling, he lifted his arms up and threw his hands open, palms wide.

With a grunt, the spike clattered from her hand and she was tossed into the far wall, pinned near the ceiling.

"Chloe!" Dean yelled, turning toward her.

Adam stared up, worried. "You said you wouldn't hurt her!"

"No…" Zachariah tisked. "I said I'd have to kill her soon and giving her to _you_ after Dean here said yes, was just a bonus…" His lips curled. "Now that she made it _personal_ , however… I think I'll just let the demons downstairs have a piece of that hot blonde ass…" Fisting his hand, he watched happily as she coughed, blood spurting from her throat, her eyes wide. Turning back to them, he asked, "Now where was I?" He blinked, thinking. "Oh, that's right… What have I _learned?_ " He stared, smirking smugly. "Patience _."_ Lifting his hand once more he motioned toward Adam, who crumbled, blood flooding from his mouth as he gripped his stomach and fell to the floor in agony.

"Let them go, you sonuvabitch!" Dean yelled.

Ignoring him, Zachariah continued, "I mean, I thought I was downsized for sure. And for us, a _firing_ …" He nodded, eyes wide in emphasis. "Pretty damn literal." He laughed. Pointing a finger and stepping back, hands clasped in front of him, he sat down at the table. "But I should'a trusted the bossman. It's all playing out like he said."

Dean looked down at a writhing Adam, coughing up gobs of blood onto the floor, and then up to Chloe who was clawing at the wall in an attempt to breathe past the pressure at her throat, her face quickly turning a very unhealthy color.

"You, me," Zachariah went on, motioning down to Adam, "Your hemorrhaging brothers." He motioned back behind him and forced Sam into a ball as he too began to choke on blood and hold his stomach. "Her, though…" He looked up at Chloe. "She wasn't supposed to make it this far…" He stared at Dean. "Isn't it funny? How the one chance you actually had, the one person who _might_ just save you is the only one you sent packing?" He smirked. "You know," He laughed, "When I heard you had a soul mate, I have to admit…" He motioned to his chest. "I thought she'd be bustier…" He wrinkled his nose, "And not nearly as smart or dedicated…" He glanced up at the tortured Chloe. "She _is_ beautiful though, isn't she?" He cocked his head. "What do _you_ think, Dean? Maybe I could play with her like I do your sweet, loving _mom_ …"

Dean swallowed thickly, his teeth grinding at the innuendo. Hands furling into fists, he looked from each pained person back to Zachariah.

"You're finally ready, right?" he asked. "All it took was a little _fear_ … Some creative kidnapping on our part?" He shook his head. "Who'd have thought your last chance would be your downfall?" He stood from the table, walking toward him with a swagger. "You know there's no other choice." He shook his head. "There's never been a choice."

Dean couldn't block out the liquid coughs of either brother and his eyes drifted up to Chloe, her heels digging into the wall. And still, looking down at him as blood dribbled down her chin, her face a pained purple, she managed to shake her head at him.

"Stop it," he whispered thickly. "Stop it right now."

"In exchange for _what?_ "

Eyes falling closed, he shook his head. "Damn it, Zachariah. Stop it, please…" Swallowing tightly, he finally said, "I'll do it."

Sam looked up at him, swallowing back the coppery flood in his throat.

Chloe banged her foot back against the wall in anger, still telling him no.

Dean's eyes fell closed, a tear escaping down his cheek, his mouth wobbling.

"I'm sorry?" Zachariah held a hand up to his ear in a cupping motion. "What was that?"

He stared, brows knotted. "Okay, _yes_ …" He cocked his head. "The answer is yes."

" _Dean_ ," Sam grunted, gaining Zach's momentary attention.

"Do you hear me?" Dean shouted.

Looking back at him, Zachariah stared darkly from the corner of his eyes.

"I'm callin' Michael down, you bastard…" his voice broke.

Chloe's feet slamming against the wall picked up tempo.

Fists so tight, his knuckles were white, he shook his head, staring down at a panting, bloody Adam.

"How do I know you're not lying?" Zachariah wondered.

"Do I look like I'm lyin'?" he asked, voice shaking.

Chloe's feet slowed and Dean looked up, his heart pounding as her eyes fluttered and then fell closed, chin sliding to rest against her shoulder.

While Zachariah chanted for Michael to come down, Dean turned away from her, his stomach clenching tight and heart rising up into his throat. His eyes fell closed, her voice echoing in his ears…

 _It doesn't have to end like this… I can meet you. I-I can be there_ with _you._

He shook his head, feeling the wet warmth of tears slipping down his face.

 _I will be there with you, every step of the way. But you have to believe. In me, in us, in_ yourself _._

He opened his eyes, looked side-to-side, searching, for the answer, the right thing to do.

Sam stared back at him, his face folding in pain. Blood ringing his mouth, Sam lifted his brows as Dean felt a calmness come over him.

"He's coming," Zachariah said with a grin, nodding his head like a giddy child.

And Dean, with tears still spilling down his unusually relaxed face, winked at Sam, who stared back, confused, brows furrowed.

"Of course, I have a few conditions…" Dean interrupted, drawing Zachariah's attention back to him.

Turning around, he asked, "What?"

"The few people whose safety you have to guarantee before I say yes," he reminded, forehead wrinkling.

"Sure," he said, shrugging it off. "Fine. Make a list."

Dean nodded. "But most of all… Michael can't have me until he _disintegrates_ you."

Staring back, Zach turned his head in question, eyes narrowed. "What did you say?" he sneered.

He advanced. "I said… Before Michael gets one _piece_ of this sweet ass…" He smirked devilishly. "He's gotta turn you into charcoal."

Zachariah laughed flippantly. "You think Michael's gonna go for that?"

"Who's more important to him now?" he asked knowingly. "You?" He cocked his head. "Or me?"

Crossing the space between them, he grabbed Dean by the collar and dragged him in. "You listen to me… You are nothing but a maggot inside a worm's ass." He shook him. "Do you know what I am? After I deliver you to Michael?"

"Expendable."

He laughed shortly, shaking his head, even as fear showed clear on his face.

"Michael's not gonna kill _me_."

"Maybe not," he agreed, drawing a silver spike out from behind his back, tucked in his belt. "But I am!" And with a vicious glint in his eyes, a snarl on his lips, he slammed it directly through Zachariah's chin and up straight until it came out from the top of his bald skull. Crying out in pain, his wide open mouth and eyes expelled a bright light that mirrored eerily in Dean's own before he was thrown back onto the floor, sliding until he hit the wall.

Without Zach there to wield his power over them, both Adam and Sam were no longer coughing up blood or holding their pained midsections, and Chloe slid swiftly toward the floor, with Dean just barely able to catch her limp body. Lying on the floor, blood dribbling down his face, Zachariah lay in a heap across the room, the imprint of his black shadow wings painted against the wall and floor. A piercing sound echoed through the room, gaining volume.

Dean jumped up, hefting Chloe over his shoulder, one of his arms clasped behind her thighs. Crossing to Adam, he held out an arm and helped him up. "Can you walk?"

He nodded, eyes still wide in shock. "Yeah."

Turning, he hurried to Sam and held aloft and arm to help him up off the floor as well. One arm around Sam, he helped him walk to the door, flinging it open. "Come on, move it!" he shouted to Adam, who was still staring down at Zachariah.

Startled out of his surprise, Adam chased after them but just as he got to the door it slammed shot. Banging his fist against it, he yelled, "No! Dean!"

Laying Sam down on the floor, he put Chloe down next to him gently. "Save her!" he growled at his brother thickly before running back toward the shed that now glowed with bright white light.

"It won't open!" Adam told him.

Reaching for the handle, Dean yanked his hand back when the metal burned him.

Banging on the door with both fists, Adam shouted, "Dean, help! Dean!"

Continuing to try and open the door, burned time and time again, Dean called back, "Hold on! We'll get you out!" He searched every direction for another way in but came up empty. "Just hold on!" When he received no reply, he hollered, "Adam? Do you hear me?"

And suddenly the light dimmed, now just as dark as the rest of the room. "Adam?" He reached for the handle, turning it easily now, only to open it and find nothing but an empty, abandoned and shabby looking office.

He looked back at Sam, who had paused in his compressions against Chloe's chest.

Shoulders slumping, Dean shook his head before running back and falling next to Chloe's opposite side.

"Where is he?" Sam wondered.

"I don't know."

"Is it Michael, do you think?" He panicked, eyes darting. "O-Or something else. I mean—"

" _I don't know!_ " he yelled, his eyes darting across Chloe's face. "How is she?"

Sam's jaw ticked, face falling. "She's not breathing." His hands fell back to his knees. "She hasn't _been_ breathing for awhile…" Sighing, he stared at his brother, voice gentle but knowing, "Dean—"

"Don't." He swallowed tightly before reaching across to tip Chloe's head back and drew her chin down until her mouth was open. "I'll breathe; you pump her heart…"

"Dean—"

"Do it!" he yelled, his eyes wide and rimmed red. "Just… _Please_ …"

With a sigh, he nodded, pressing his hand, one on top of the other, center on her chest and nodding at Dean.

Pinching her nose closed, Dean covered her mouth with his and blew deep until he saw her chest rise, twice before he let Sam start chest compressions. He watched, waiting until it was his turn once more. Thirty compressions, two breaths, again, again, and Dean was losing hope.

"Come on…" he whispered pleadingly. He brushed her hair back from her forehead while Sam continued to pump his big hands down, over and over.

Once more and Sam shook his head. "Dean, I-I don't think…"

He let out a shaky breath, letting his head fall until his forehead touched hers. "'m sorry. I'm _so_ sorry…" Eyes closed tight, he inhaled shakily. "You were right… I gave up; on me and you a-and Sammy…" Sniffling, his mouth wobbled as tears escaped. "But p-please, _please_ , I won't do it again. I-I believe, okay?" Stroking her cheek, he threaded his fingers tight in her hair. "'m not goin' anywhere… I'm not…" Shaking his head, he dragged her up into his lap, hugging her close. Through clenched teeth, he groaned as if in physical pain, rocking her back and forth.

Hands limp at his sides, Sam bowed his head.

But then… There was a hitch, a cough, a choked inhale as she tried to breathe. Her hand lifted, grabbing at Dean's arm as she shook, as her mouth fell agape and tried again.

Drawing back, he stared down at her, eyes wide. "Chloe?"

Pushing at him, she managed to roll herself onto her side and cough, spitting out a gob of blood before she was able to inhale thickly, panting quickly.

Rubbing her back, Dean scrambled to hold her up.

Breathing a little more steadily now, she stared up at him through damp eyes. "'m holdin'… you… to that…" she croaked, managing a slight smile.

He snorted, forcing his shaking mouth into a grin as he nodded agreeably. Hugging her close once more, he stroked her hair, his cheek against her temple as he looked over to Sam, appreciation obvious.

Sam half-grinned, nodding in understanding.

…

An hour later, Sam was driving a beat-up truck they'd stolen so they could get back to Bobby's. Without Cas there to zap them back, they had to resort to old ways. Dean sat in the passenger seat with a safe and sleeping Chloe in his lap, head tucked against his shoulder.

"She'll probably sleep for a few days," Sam told him, glancing from her up to his brother.

He hadn't stopped touching her since she'd woken up from sure death. One of his hands held her thigh while his other arm lay tight around her waist. He refused to remove his eyes from her when he replied, "How long was she up anyway?"

He frowned. "Since you sent her home, I think."

When Dean turned to glare at him sharply, he winced.

"Well, it's not like I had any control over her! Bobby tried to send her to bed; she apparently went but didn't sleep. She only said she'd sleep when we got you back…" He half-smiled. "She got that right, in more ways than one."

Brows furrowed, he stared at his brother questioningly.

"You have to admit, Dean…" He smiled knowingly. "You haven't really been yourself lately. And definitely not the Dean _she_ knew…"

Pursing his lips, he nodded.

Silence reigned a moment before Sam finally asked, "There's no way Adam's okay?"

"Doubt it… Cas either." He looked down at Chloe once more, exhaling heavily. "But we'll get 'em."

Head falling, Sam licked his lips. "So…?"

Dean glanced at him. "So what?"

"I saw your eyes…" he told him, knowingly. "You were totally rockin' the yes back there."

Dean's eyes fell half-closed in defeat.

"So… What changed your mind?"

He snorted lightly. "Honestly…" He looked over at him. "The damndest thing… I mean the world's ending, walls are comin' down on us, and I know it… I know this is it, there's no more, credits are gonna roll…" He scoffed, rolling his eyes up. "And I can still hear her in my head, kicking at the wall… Damn woman can't _breathe_ and she's _still_ trying to tell me what to do…" He grinned, looking rather proud of her. "And then… Then I look at you and all I can think is… The stupid sonuvabitch _brought_ me here." Licking his lips, he shook his head. "I didn't wanna let either of you down…"

Sam grinned. "You didn't…" He lifted his finger to make a point, "You _almost_ did, but you didn't."

Eyes staring down at Chloe, he said seriously, "I owe you an apology."

Flexing his hands around the steering wheel, he shook his head. "No, no man, you don't."

"Just… Lemme say this," he asked. "I don't know if it's bein' a big brother or what, but to me you've always been this… snot-nosed kid that I've had to keep on the straight-and-narrow." He paused, gathering his voice. "I think we both know that that's not you anymore…" He stroked Chloe's hair, frowning to himself. "I mean hell, if you're grown up enough to find faith in _me_ …" He turned to look at him, serious and honest. "Least I could do is return the favor."

Sam stared back, thankful, and nodded, turning his eyes back to the road.

"So screw destiny…" He half-grinned. "Or at least the parts of it I don't like…" He dragged his forefinger down the length of Chloe's nose affectionately. "I say we take the fight to them and do it our way." He looked to his brother to see what his answer might be.

Sam grinned back. "Sounds good."

"Mm," Chloe grunted, voice a little rough, nuzzling her face into Dean's neck. "I call the sawed-off."

"What're you _eavesdroppin'_ now?" Dean asked on a gruff laugh.

She cocked a brow. "I'm an ex-investigative reporter… Eavesdropping is a talent of mine." Sighing, she stretched her head back. "And stop avoiding the subject…"

"You're not gettin' my shotgun, sweetheart." He scoffed. "End of story."

She snorted. "It's either that or your colt."

His brows rose high on his forehead. "You really think you're in a position to negotiate?"

"Not like you're going anywhere if you don't get your way," she replied cheekily. "Make up your mind, Winchester. The colt or the sawed-off?"

"What's wrong with hiding you away in some safe house somewhere?" he grumbled, pursing his lips.

"A lot." She yawned suddenly, arching her back. "Do I need to list the ways?"

He cocked a brow. "You really think you'll be awake long enough?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I know it's been awhile but can the lovey-dovey reunion _at least_ wait until we get to a motel room?"

"No," she said simply. "Colt or shot gun?"

He rolled his eyes lightly. "'m still sayin' safehouse."

"You wanna lose your ability to have children in the future?" she growled back.

He smirked. "If you really want kids, you won't mess up anything vital."

She glared back. "Maybe I'll take a liking to Sam," she argued, shrugging. "He's cute."

Forehead wrinkled, he frowned. "Not funny."

She laughed lightly. "I disagree."

"You can have the shotgun…" With a dramatic shudder, he added, "As long as you _never_ say anything like that again."

Smirking, she nodded, and then tucked her head back on his shoulder. "Just FYI… I wouldn't mess with your manhood… I rather like it."

"TMI," Sam muttered.

Dean could only grin.

And a few short minutes later, they were met with the soft, peaceful snore of a finally sleeping and content Chloe Sullivan.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXI**.

Chloe slept the three hours to the motel. She would've slept the whole way to Bobby's if it weren't for the fact that Sam was falling asleep at the wheel. They pulled into some ratty motel that could've easily fit the bill of any they'd been to before. The L was blinking out on the sign, most of the patrons were paying hourly, and the two-bed overpriced and still somehow cheap room was dark in color and old in fashion. She didn't stir when Dean carried her out of the truck and into the room, laying her down on her side of the bed while he sat on the edge, kicking off his boots and shucking his shirt. He grabbed her shoes off her feet and tossed them to the floor before dragging her jeans downs and dropping them in a pile with his. Sam was already passed out, shoes on and on top of the blanket on the other side of the room, snoring loudly into a pillow.

She went undisturbed until three in the morning, when a nightmare began plaguing her dreams.

There was blood, rivers of it, on her hands, on the bed, on the two other people in the room. Their stomachs were torn apart, shredded, and the blast of a sawed-off was echoing in her ears. Dead. Sam was _dead_. Dean was _dead_. And Chloe was left behind, in a mess, woken up by Dean's jarring and the sudden understanding that a couple of pissed hunters had come to collect on the Winchester boys for causing the apocalypse.

She could feel Dean's blood; it was warm, it was seeping into her clothes, her skin. Her heart pumped rapidly, her sight began to fade; hysteria, loss, terror, _rage_. She wanted to kill those two men with her bare hands. And she would; she'd rip their jugulars out and feel their blood seep through the cracks of her fingers. Laughter bubbled in her throat but broke on a sob. Dean's head lay in her lap; a simple, even peaceful, smile on his mouth. She wanted to hate him for this; for leaving her. Instead, she loved him, and it made her heart break all the more. Drawing her hand down his face, she closed his eyes; goodbye.

With a shudder Chloe woke abruptly, panting, her eyes wide. A week had passed since that day, give or take a day. But she hadn't slept once since then and she supposed this was one of the reasons why. When she looked around she found Dean wasn't next to her and her heart hammered painfully, her fingers curling into tight fists. Eyes wide and searching, the first remnants of true hysteria set in. It didn't matter that Sam was snoring loud enough to let her know he was alive and across the room, or that the bathroom light was on, peeking out the bottom of the door to assure her where Dean was. All she knew was that he was not next to her and she still felt like she was stuck in that moment, in that room, with a dead man in her lap and a dead friend just a few feet away, and two shot-guns ready to do the same to her. She wasn't afraid though. In fact, maybe some part of her welcomed death. If Dean was gone, if Sam was gone, it was just her again… It was just her and no _reason_. Nobody to keep her going, to give her purpose, to make her feel wanted and for her to want back.

Her hands shook as she pressed them against her chest, feeling as her pulse pumped rapidly, so quick it made her head spin.

And then the door was opening and the light surrounded a half-asleep, half-dressed Dean Winchester as he left the bathroom. Brows furrowed, he stared at her a moment. "What're you doin' up?" asked his gruff, sleep-laced voice.

She sighed, relief, blind appreciation, and then hiccupped on a sob.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey…" He crossed the room quickly, sitting down on the bed and reaching for her. "What's up, Goldi? You were sleepin' just fine a second ago."

She sniffled, rolling her eyes up and hating the sudden feeling of being some useless little girl that cried at the smallest of things. "Uh, nothing, it was just…" She laughed at herself, shaking her head. "Nightmare. It's stupid."

He scoffed. "Trust me. Had a few myself; they're not easy."

Shoulders slumping, she looked up at him. "For a guy not used to comforting someone, you're not bad."

He shrugged uneasily, half-smiling. "So?"

Sighing, she tucked her hair behind her ears in an uncomfortable gesture. "It was just… that morning…" Her eyes stared down at the sheet, searching as if understanding would become clear. "When you and Sam…"

"Died," he finished, knowingly. A frown crossed his mouth and he reached back to rub the back of his neck. "About that…"

She chuckled lightly. "You can't really apologize for something somebody else did, Dean."

"No, I guess not. But… I brought you into this, kind of, and I guess I should've warned you a little more about the enemies I've got." His brows rose high on his forehead. "There's a lot of 'em."

She half-smiled. "I know the feeling."

Licking his lips, he leaned back against the headboard of the bed. "'m sorry you had to see that."

Looking up at him, she shook her head. "You don't have to apologize for everything that's happened."

"For a few things, I do…" He cleared his throat, eyes darting way. "Look, that night, when we came back and… and what I said, I…"

Chloe stared at him. "You were being your usual 'save-the-world-screw-myself' _self_ …" Moving across the bed, she leaned back next to him, eyes turning up to the sides to look at his profile. "I didn't get it at first…" She pursed her lips. "Which is weird, because I'm usually _much_ more insightful, but…" She grinned, lightly. "A friend of mine sort've opened my eyes and I realized exactly what you were doing." Chuckling under her breath, she bit her lip. " _Noble_ Dean Winchester."

He passed her a side-long look. "Noble, huh?"

"You have your moments…" She frowned. "Entirely too often."

He laughed shortly. "Yeah, well… Maybe when the world stops ending, I'll be less sacrificial."

She snorted. "Unlikely."

He stared at her. "Yeah, you're probably right," he sighed.

"It's not a bad thing," she murmured, tipping her head to one side imploringly. "I mean, I get why you do it. It's just in your nature to save people… especially those you love." She glanced away, shaking her head. "Sam's lucky to have you, Dean."

Brows furrowed, he frowned. "So you like that I'll give up whatever it takes for Sammy, but if it's for you…"

She turned back to him. "Some part of me wants to be really selfish and say that I don't care about the rest of the world… That if it means walking away from you, from us, then it's not worth it. But another part, the part that's been around heroes my whole life and learned a thing or two… That part wants you to keep fighting no matter what…" Eyes falling, she lifted a shoulder. "I came after you this time because I knew what you were doing was giving up, not fighting like you were meant to. But if next time you turn me away because it means really saving the world, the _right_ way… _That_ I would understand."

"So, _what…_?" He scoffed. "You want me to give you up only if it means all these other mooks get to live their perfect little ignorant lives?"

She smiled, staring at him seriously. "It's what we do… It's what really matters."

He shook his head, scowling. "I sent you home because I knew if you stuck around you were gonna get hurt or killed…" His jaw clenched. "And in case you haven't noticed, the only sacrificing going on around here is on my part…" He pointed to himself, shaking his head. "So if you think you're gonna walk off into the sunset like some damn hero and die for the greater good, you got it all wrong, sister."

"All I'm saying is that if in the end of all this you have to choose… If the choice comes down to saving me o-or saving everybody else…." She stared at him searchingly, "You'd make the right choice, wouldn't you?"

His jaw ticked, eyes turning away. "And if the right choice to me isn't the right choice to everybody else?"

Smiling slowly, she cocked a brow. "I'm not the right choice, Dean."

"Says you," he muttered, eyes falling to his lap.

Sighing, she leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder. "Whatever reasons you had for saying what you did, for pushing me away… And whatever reasons you had for thinking yes was the right answer to give Michael, in the end you knew that they didn't matter. You made the right choice when you killed Zachariah instead."

"Lotta good that did," he scoffed. "Adam's up there gettin' played like a damn muppet by Michael anyway."

"Maybe…" she allowed. "But if nothing else, he at least knows that he has family, that his brothers was willing to come get him, trick or not…" Reaching out, she took his hand in hers and squeezed. "And he needed you guys, whether he wanted to admit it or not."

Flexing his fingers, he linked them with hers. "I think you see more hero in me than there is."

Turning her head up, she rested her chin atop his shoulder and sighed. "And I think you doubt yourself too much."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, his face set in grim determination. "I'm not givin' you up again…" He stared at her, eyes searching hers. "I meant what I said to Sam, too. I screwed up before and maybe I lost hope, but… I got it back now."

She grinned widely. "There's the Dean I know."

He half-smiled, rolling his eyes to himself. "You said you wanted to come along, kick some ass… It won't be easy."

She sighed, "When's it ever been?"

They were quiet a long moment, each of them in their thoughts, and then Chloe's long, drawn out yawn interrupted.

He turned back to her, frowning in concern. "How'd you stay up all this time anyway?"

"Wasn't like I was _trying_ to exhaust myself…" She shrugged, letting her eyes fall closed as she leaned against him. "It just never felt right…" she sighed. "Didn't smell right…" She rubbed her nose against his skin, "Didn't feel right." She wrapped an arm around his waist. "I laid down, closed my eyes and… and…" She wrinkled her nose, exhaling heavily.

He felt as she began to relax, as her body slumped into his as if it was all she needed for peace. Laying her back on the bed, he dragged the blanket up around her and then sprawled next to her. Watching her a long moment, he shook his head to himself. The relief he felt was overwhelming; knowing that she was okay, that she was _with_ him, somehow made the last week feel like it was almost worth it. Gathering her up with an arm around her waist, he drew her back until her small body was pressed tight to his own. Face buried in her sweet smelling hair, he half-smiled. This was _right_. In ways it never really had been before she came along.

And for the first time since he walked away from her, things fell back into place for him.

…

Chloe woke up only long enough to shower, dress and get a little food into her. With sunglasses covering her eyes thanks to Dean's quick thinking at a convenience store they stopped at just before they got back onto the highway, she sat in the middle of the truck between Dean and Sam, who was driving once more. They had a day's drive ahead of them, cutting through Utah, Colorado and Nebraska to get back to Sioux Falls, South Dakota and she looked ready to sleep through the whole thing. Head on Dean's shoulder, her snuggled her face against him, breathed in and relaxed. A half-hour into the drive and her hand had wandered to lie innocently between the warmth of Dean's legs. What was comfortable for her was frustrating for him, making him a less than fun person to drive with.

Dean struggled to open a bag of chips, trying his best not to disturb the sleeping woman using half his body as her own personal bed. "Stupid piece a… Why's it gotta be so damn hard to open anyway…?"

Rolling his eyes, Sam reached across, grabbed it out of his brother's hands and brought it back, holding it with one hand he tore it open with his teeth and then passed it back, eyebrow lifted. "You happy now, Princess?"

"Shuddup," he muttered, snagging it back. "Why'd we grab this truck, anyway? There's a spring in the seat sticking in my ass."

Sam snorted. "You picked it."

"I said 'get us outta here,' not 'get the ugliest piece of crap you can find,'" he replied, frowning.

Sam sighed. "It was either this or a flashy, expensive, _noticeable_ sports car."

"Did it have a backseat?" he wondered, refusing to use his left arm on the off-chance it woke Chloe. He frowned at her sleeping face, his bag of chips in his lap.

"Bitch all you want, but deep down you _like_ it…"

Dean glared back at him. "You need to get laid."

He grinned. "I'm not the only one."

Rolling his eyes, Dean stared out the window, munching on his cheezies in bitter irritation.

…

Standing outside the truck, leaning back against the still warm front end, Sam dialed Bobby's home number.

"Yeah?" Bobby growled into the phone.

"Hey," he greeted. "It's us."

"Well, _la di da_ ," he replied irritably. "Just how many of _us_ is there?"

"Three… Cas is nowhere to be found, Adam's been snatched up by Michael, and so it's just us three again."

"The Three Amigos, at it again…" He sighed. "They drivin' you nuts yet?"

"Actually, Chloe's been sleeping most of the drive…" Sam chuckled lightly. "Dean's back to his protective, jerk self and we should be rolling back into Sioux Falls by this time tomorrow… Unless we stop for sleep."

"No immediate issues over here… 'Sides the _apocalypse_ and all…" he drawled sarcastically. "So feel free to catch up on your _beauty sleep!_ "

Rolling his eyes upward, Sam shook his head. "Look, we'll be back as soon as possible."

"If that were true, you three woulda jumped on a damn plain and be pissin' me off in plain view by now."

Glancing back at the truck where Dean opening his third coke and absently stroking Chloe's hair, Sam shook his head. "You said yourself there was no pressing problems… It's only a day and we'll be there sooner than you think."

He grunted in reply. "How's Sully doin'?"

Brows furrowed, he asked, "You mean Chloe?"

"'s what I said, innit?"

"Actually, you—You know what, never mind…" he exhaled. "She's fine. Better. Dean's treating her like a china doll, which I'm sure'll backfire just as soon as she gets back to herself, but… She's finally catching up on that sleep, so…"

"Good," he growled simply. "You three idjits hurry your asses up then." With that, he hung up and Sam scoffed to himself.

Grinning, he walked back to the truck, climbing in and receiving a glare when he slammed the door a little too loudly. "It's an _old_ truck, Dean!"

"What'd Bobby say?"

"Hurry up," he muttered, rolling his eyes. Eyeing the bottle in Dean's hands, he cocked a brow. "Thirsty much?"

"'m bored," he said, shrugging. "We gonna hit the road or you wanna bitch some more?"

With a sigh, he started the engine. "Y'know, Chloe was much easier to road trip with."

Dean snorted.

…

Three hours later, Dean had drunk one too many pops and had to make a pit-stop. "Where the hell are the gas stations in this craphole?" he muttered, looking around.

"Last one was where you picked up that double-gulp that's coming back at you," Sam replied, sighing.

"You're enjoying this way too much…"

He snorted. "Look, I'll pull over…" Flipping the turning signal, he pulled off onto the shoulder and cut the engine. "Well?"

Sighing, Dean shoved the door open abruptly but then slipped out from beneath Chloe carefully, gently pushing her in the opposite direction so she'd lean against Sam.

Immediately, her face scrunched up and he muttered a few curse words under his breath.

Sam chuckled. "Not me she wants."

Dean glared at him before his eyes widened with an idea. Shucking his jacket off, he tucked it in over top Sam's shoulder and leaned her against it. Shuffling his feet, he waited impatiently. "She good?"

"You're so whipped," Sam muttered.

After fingering his brother, Dean walked a few feet over and unzipped, whistling to himself awhile before finally calling back over his shoulder. "She wake up yet?"

"No…" Sam looked down at the woman asleep against his arm. "She doesn't look like she's having much of a great dream though…"

"Yeah… that morning didn't sit too well with her."

"That morning?" Sam wondered, brows furrowed.

Cocking a brow, he shrugged. "You know, the latest one in which we _died_."

He snorted. "Right, the latest one…"

"She had a nightmare last night…" Zipping back up, he walked back to the truck. Climbing inside, he shrugged. "For a girl who's died and come back a few times herself, seeing it happen to somebody else wasn't so normal for her."

Starting the engine, Sam's brow furrowed. "Did you say she's _died_ before?"

Looking over at his brother, he frowned. "Yeah… Forgot to tell you that, huh?"

"Well, we haven't really been on the same wavelength lately…"

Dean sighed. "Yeah, well, she had this power for awhile. Healing or whatever. But if she helped somebody who was near death, well… She kinda died instead."

Sam's brows rose. "What, like, she took their death on herself?"

He shrugged, dragging Chloe back over to lean against him, comfortably tucked beneath his arm, her head on his chest. "Sure."

"And she just…" He shook his head wonderingly. "Woke up?"

"Yeah, hours later…" He glanced at his brother, brows furrowed almost defensively. "Not the weirdest thing we've heard of."

"No, but not the most normal either…" He glanced down at the still sleeping Chloe. "How'd she get it?"

"Meteor rocks or something…" He waved a dismissive hand. "Not our usual trade."

"But she's not infected anymore?"

"Hasn't healed in a couple years or so… Just went away, she said."

"Huh…" Sam stared out at the road contemplatively. "And you're okay with that?"

He frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well…" He smiled sarcastically. "You weren't exactly _happy_ when you found out about _my_ powers."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "'Cause yours were demon issued."

"But I wasn't _using_ them for bad… Not at first, anyway. And even after," He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "I thought I was doing the right thing."

Dean stared at him, brows furrowed. "Yeah, I know… Look, Sam, I told you before… I get it. I mean, yeah, I don't _like_ it. But you _thought_ it was gonna help. And Ruby…" He scowled darkly. "She was a manipulative bitch, but she sold a good story."

Licking his lips, Sam nodded, glancing back at him and Chloe and then to the road once more. "Not all of us find our soul mate, Dean."

"And you thought you had enough in common with Ruby for that to work?" He stared at him wonderingly. "You used to have better taste in women."

Sam snorted, smiling to himself.

"Whatever happened to that Sarah chick?" Reaching across, he shoved his brother. "She was demon-free and easy on the eyes…"

"Sarah Blake?" He shook his head slowly. "I dunno… Probably still back working at the art gallery."

Shifting uncomfortably, Dean cleared his throat. "You should look her up when this is all over."

With an amused smile, Sam glanced over at him. "Are you encouraging me to get a girlfriend?"

He rolled his eyes. "Find a girlfriend, get laid and quit bein' a bitch, whatever."

Rolling his eyes, he looked over at his brother seriously. "What you have with Chloe… I don't think us _mere mortals_ ever really find it." He shook his head. "Not the same way anyway."

"What, so because me an' her are destined means you can't be as happy with someone?" Dean scoffed. "Bull."

"Dean…" He sighed. "Somebody up there decided there was nobody else out that could be better for you than her… Fate or destiny or cupid or _whatever_ realized that nobody was gonna love her like you do or vice versa… So yeah, sure, I could go back and I could date Sarah or somebody else, but… She's never gonna be the _Chloe to my Dean_ …"

Staring Dean's smile faded. "You dunno until you look."

Jaw ticking, Sam nodded. "Yeah, maybe…"

"Anybody deserves it, y'know…" He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

With a light chuckle, he smiled. "Yeah, thanks."

There was a long silence for a moment before finally Dean muttered, "Bitch."

And with a grin, Sam returned, "Jerk."

It was enough.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXII**.

When they arrived at Bobby's, they sighed in relief. Climbing out, they all stretched their arms and legs, trying to get life back into them. With a groan of relief, Chloe hopped out of the truck feeling rejuvenated and back to her old self. No longer was there a headache at her temples, pounding at her senses, and the ache in her chest had long dulled. With Dean next to her and the tension between them no longer overwhelming, she was feeling lighter. Sam circled the front of the truck to walk with them up the stairs to Bobby's house.

"The hell took you so long?" Bobby's gruff voice greeted them as he pushed open the screen door.

"Nice to see you too," Chloe replied back, grinning.

"You're lookin' better…" He cocked his head. "Heard you caught up on some of that sleep."

She shrugged. "Maybe life with the boys is more boring than you think."

"Hah," he scoffed. "Doubt it."

Sniffing the air, she cocked a brow. "Did you make us dinner?"

"Somethin' like that," he blustered before nodding behind him to invite them in. "You boys must be beat."

"Yeah, well, we might'a stopped somewhere overnight if somebody hadn't been pissed that we were takin' so long," Dean muttered, frowning at Bobby.

"You wanna sass me all day or you wanna eat and sleep? 'Cause you keep it up and you're stayin' on the porch swing tonight!" He cocked a brow, daring him to say any more.

Dean muttered under his breath but didn't argue.

With a chuckle, Chloe walked past them into the kitchen. "I'll set the table," she offered.

"No, you won't. It's what I got these two egg-heads for," Bobby told her, nodding toward the boys. "Earn your supper!"

With a roll of their eyes, Dean and Sam left to set the table for him.

"And what, dear _chef_ , can I do?"

"Sit down and tell me what happened," he told her simply, eyes wide and serious.

With a sigh, she moved to take a seat at the small kitchen table. Raising her hands, she warned, "Before I get too far into this, you should know I sort've died near the end, so some of this tale comes directly from Sam and Dean."

"Died?" he growled.

She blinked. "I got better."

Rolling his eyes, he tossed out a heavy sigh. "Get on with it…"

Chloe took a deep breath before relating the details of their latest angel mishap.

Man was her life getting weird… _er_.

…

A week was spent entirely absorbed in research. Chloe, Dean, Sam and Bobby each took turns phoning every source they could in hopes of finding _someone_ who might be able to help them. And those that didn't laugh at them, turning out to be bigger fakes than Pam Andersons' chest, were just plain hopeless. When they weren't eyes deep in religious texts, they were chasing every lead they could find. There had to be a way to beat the devil and win this without exiting the fight and leaving their bodies for the devil and Michael to battle it out.

The only person getting regular sleep was Chloe and that was only because Dean wouldn't let her stay up too long, worried after the last week she'd spent without sleep. Sam was studying until his eyes hurt and even when Bobby sent him off for shut-eye, he ended up staring at the ceiling all night, wondering, worried. Answers weren't coming; it seemed nobody had any. If there was a way to stop Lucifer, it wasn't easy to find and even with their endless supply of religious books, they were running out of leads. He was trying to stay positive, but reality was setting in and he was getting tired of finding nothing new to grab onto and hope for.

It didn't help that he couldn't stop worrying about Adam and Cas. Adam didn't have anything to do with this, not really. He was just a means to an end for the angels and Sam dearly hoped he wasn't being punished for his half-brothers' many mistakes. And Cas… He'd basically sacrificed himself up for the cause, not really knowing what might happen, and even when he had very little hope left in him. He still hadn't showed up and Sam imagined the worse for their angel friend.

On the bright side, however, Dean was getting back to himself. The haunted look he'd carried for all too long was fading; the fight was back in his big brother and Sam couldn't be happier for it. There was a fire in him again, a need to save the world rather than just turn his back and let fate have it. And maybe it was partly him that did it, maybe it was what Sam said or did that helped his brother along, but in the end, he was sure it was more Chloe than anything. That day, when Cas and Adam were gone and Chloe was laying dead in Dean's arms, little hope left for her, he'd seen his brother break. And for the first time, he realized… He really could be just like John. He could turn and fall apart and lose himself entirely in his pain and loss for Chloe. Except he wouldn't do it like John did, he wouldn't turn his back on those he cared about. And maybe they would've won this war if Chloe _had_ died, because for a second, when Dean had actually _cried_ for her, had _begged_ her to live, he thought he could see his brother tear Lucifer apart with his bare hands and still not be satisfied. It wasn't hatred that would consume him. It was loss. It was _love_. The darker, sadder end of it, but still, in the end, it was love that would urge Dean toward his proper destiny.

But Chloe lived and now Sam wondered… With the lack of answers coming in, the obvious declining number of chances they had… How the hell were they going to win this?

…

"You gonna tuck me in, too?" Chloe teased, looking down at him from her sitting position on the side of the bed.

Dean was tugging her shoes off, her socks too, and tossing them haphazardly to a corner of the room. His rough palm slid along the arch of her foot and she felt a shiver of awareness draw up her spine, reach around and flame across her breasts, tightening them in response. He stared up at her, his eyes suddenly dark and heated. Lips curving in a half-smirk, he cocked a brow. "You slept like a normal person, I wouldn't have to be up here." Lifting her legs, he moved her sideways until the weight of her body at the angle she was sitting forced her to lie back on the bed. Sitting down adjacent to her, he laid her legs across his lap.

"Deep down, you like that I need you here to sleep," she muttered, tucking her arms behind her head. "And if you haven't noticed, I'm not even tired."

"You've been up eighteen hours," he retorted, brows furrowed. "I hear regular people get sleep _every_ day."

She smiled slowly. "I don't see _you_ sleeping."

"I'm not regular people."

"And what makes you think _I_ am?" She chuckled lightly. "Regular and normal are not part of the Sullivan dictionary."

Sliding his hand up her leg, massaging her calf absently, he shrugged. "So you'll get used to it."

"Used to what? You forcing me to sleep every day?" She wrinkled her nose. "I'm put to better use in the research department. If anybody needs sleep it's you and Sam."

He frowned. "Yeah, he's pushin' himself, isn't he?"

"He's not the only one." Sitting up, she cocked her head to look at him. "Are you trying to make up for lost time by studying your brains out? Because trust me, cramming isn't going to help…" Reaching for him, she trailed her fingers along his ear, stroking his hair. "If anything, a few hours of sleep will give you a new perspective on very old material."

He cocked a brow at her, lips pursed. "I get into this bed with you and I'm not gonna spend much time sleeping…" he told her, his voice lowering.

A smile, slow and seductive, curved her lips. "Is that why you're avoiding sleep? You think I'll seduce you?"

He snorted. "I like you, Goldi, hell… even more than like, but screwing around while Bobby and my brother are workin' to make up for the shit I caused isn't really at the top of my list."

She tugged on his earlobe affectionately. "You didn't _cause_ this, Dean… It was always meant to happen and you were just one of many cogs in the machine. At _least_ you're doing your best to rectify it." She stared up at him searchingly. "But keeping this kind of pressure on your shoulders, _blaming_ yourself like you do… It's not helping."

His jaw flexed. "I'm not good at forgiveness … Especially not my own."

With a sigh, she shuffled herself closer, tossing a leg over his and sliding into his lap easily. Hands on his face, she turned it up so he was looking at her directly. "You are _forgiven_ , Dean Winchester… Saving the world might be your destiny, but it's not because you screwed the world up in the first place. _Trust me_ , there are much worse people and demons and _angels_ out there that did it long before you did." Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead to his. "You're the good guy in this story; as jaded, bitter, and sorry as you are… So stop letting them win and forgive yourself."

Arms wrapped around her waist, he lifted a brow, staring up at her thoughtfully. "I really wish it was that easy."

"So _make it_ that easy," she murmured, closing her eyes and sighing lightly. Hands sliding down his shoulders to lay flat against his chest, she licked her lips. "Every day you spend wishing you hadn't screwed up, they get one step ahead of us."

He laughed to himself lightly. "How the hell'd they figure I was good enough for you?"

Grinning, she shook her head. "There you go, doubting yourself again…" Before he could argue, she kissed him, slanting her mouth across his more to shut him up than anything. But as soon as their heated lips met, she felt desire flame across her face and along her skin.

Her blood boiled, temperature rising, and her hands nearly shook as she feathered them through his close-cropped hair. She'd only meant for a teasing kiss, a brush of lips that would make him smile, make him forget his regrets and fears. She should've thought it through first. Because kissing him was too tempting to stop. Mouths slanting, over and over, his arms tightened around her, hands spread along her back, fingers digging into her flesh.

Uncontrollable; the urge to have all of him, to taste every inch of hard flesh. She rocked against him, grinding down into his lap as she felt her thighs quake, her insides warm. She'd never felt quite like this with a man before; like she was bursting from the inside out. Like he could make her come just by looking at her. His fingers dragged up and down her back, along her spine, sending sensitive shivers all over. She could feel herself getting wet; feel as she opened, wide and welcoming. And the hard erection currently tenting his jeans rubbed between her thighs enough to make her whimper in response.

Hands at his shoulders, she gripped his shirt, wanting it off, wanting it torn from him and tossed away. He nipped her lower lip as if he knew what she was thinking, and then he was dragging her shirt up her body, over her head, their mouths parting for a mere second before meeting once more, tongues tangling, teeth near snapping against each other. One hand undid her bra, the other pulled it down her arms and threw it away. She hardly had time to feel the cool air of the room against her naked skin before both of his hands were cupping her breasts, squeezing, kneading, plucking her tight, puckered nipples, rolling them between his calloused fingertips.

She gasped, her jaw falling open and he drew away, buried his face in her neck and sucked her pulse, his teeth dragging along sensitive flesh. She reached between them, her hands shaky, fingers trying and stumbling to get the buttons on his plaid shirt undone. Finally, she grew tired and just tore it open, ignoring him as he chuckled against her throat. He shrugged one wide shoulder, shucking the shirt off, and then the other, until it was gone. But still there was a t-shirt beneath, grey and worn, thermal; she grabbed the bottom of it and pulled it up. He detached from her long enough to help get it over his head and then they were both bare from the waist up. And she wanted to explore…

Shoving him back on the bed, she smirked at his surprised look. Hands splayed along his waist, she slid them up slowly, letting her fingers delve across the plains of hard muscle. Dean was, perhaps, not built like his brother who was all bulging muscle, but he was his own kind of brick house. Hard, tanned flesh that spoke a lifetime of hard knocks was sinuous and warm beneath her fingers. Scars, from knives or bullets or what-have-you; she dragged her fingernails along each of them. The jagged one, cut across his ribs – "Bar fight," he muttered. The peppering of tiny white scars along his upper chest – "Rock salt hurts like a bitch." The faded hand imprint along his right shoulder – "Cas. When he 'gripped me tight and raised me from perdition…' _Ass_." And when she was done touching them, hearing his short explanations, she leaned down to kiss them. From the nick atop his navel that he got from playing with an army knife when he was a kid to the puckered scar near his collar bone from a bullet. Lips smoothing across each one tenderly, she brushed her fingers along his sides soothingly.

She'd wanted this for so long, she wondered if she'd needed it before she'd even met him. The time spent without him suddenly felt more like years than a mere week. She'd known lust in her life; she'd known love to. But with Dean, it all seemed like so much more than either. Like what her feelings were in the past, for Jimmy or Clark or her many short-lived relationships in high school, were just shadows of what she could've felt, what she was feeling. Denying that she lusted after Dean was pointless; she wanted him and she wasn't going to pretend otherwise. Loving him was harder, was deeper and more emotional. It was accepting a lot more than she'd ever had to with men in her past. It'd been easy to love Clark, alien or not, he was a good man with ideas about the world that often made him seem ideal. Loving Jimmy was like saying yes to normal, embracing what Dean would call the apple pie life, even if it hadn't truly fit her. But loving Dean was like shucking off all of her previous worries, like saying she wouldn't lie to herself anymore. She wasn't normal, she never would be, and much as she'd once wanted what a regular life could give her, she knew now that she was never meant for it because her destiny involved something far greater. Like angels and demons, hunters and gods, wars and fate, _greater_.

Maybe it was epic or tragic, she didn't know. It was just starting; it was the beginning of something far bigger than she'd ever expected when she pulled into a danky old bar off the highway, the pit in her gut and the ache in her chest saying this was it… This was where she was meant to be; where she'd find what she'd been looking for and missing all her life.

Dean.

Snarky, stubborn, emotionally-distant and somehow the most loving person she'd ever known; Dean Winchester.

And the world could collapse, they could lose this, spend all this time worrying and hurt and trying their best only to have the apocalypse wipe them out and she still wouldn't regret it. Never. Not walking away from the League or nearly dying in a warehouse in Van Nuys because some asshole of an angel didn't appreciate her trying to kill him. Not the heartache or the fear, the knowledge that what could be the end or beginning of a better or worse world resided on their shoulders and they might fail. As much as he didn't believe it, he was worth it. He was worth fighting for and with.

Legs cradling his waist, she laid herself atop him, her chest meeting his, and cupping his face with both of her hands, she caught his eyes before leaning down and slanting her mouth across his. _Mine_ , she said silently. As much as she was his, he was hers. Hand falling to the small of her back, he held her tight, kept her right there as if he thought she might disappear at any moment. His fingers buried in her hair, squeezing her neck lightly. She watched his face, as his brows furrowed like he couldn't _comprehend_ how right it all felt, as they smoothed when her tongue stroked his. Wrapping her hands around the back of his shoulders, she held tight, feeling like she was on a rollercoaster that rocked her to and fro, inside and out. When she was with him like this, she felt unbalanced, out of control, as if her body and her heart were in sync with each other, against rational thought.

She wanted him; she _always_ wanted him. But today she wanted to _lose_ herself in him, in his touch and his scent and the heat of his body all around hers, _inside_ her. He seemed to be on the same train of thought, because he was undoing her jeans and shoving them down her hips, his thumbs hooking on the sides of her panties and dragging them along, too. He laid her out on her back, lengthwise in the center of the bed. And shed of clothes entirely, she wasn't surprised to find no moment of panic or insecurity. Where in the past, with Jimmy, she'd had a second where she wondered if she was soft enough, lithe enough, _beautiful_ enough, she didn't with Dean. She didn't pause or worry or count her many flaws; she was at peace with how she looked, how she felt, and there was nothing but content and euphoria and _ecstasy_ in his arms.

Her legs were spread, open and inviting, her heels dug in to the mattress and her knees high. He laid on his side, pinning one of her thighs to the bed, and held his head up with one hand, elbow biting down next to her shoulder. He stared at her a long moment, hazel eyes searching, and she wondered what he found there in her gaze, in _her_. Because he half-smiled, looking happy, even content, for the first time in a long time since she met him. And hadn't it only been _weeks?_ Two, maybe three; she wasn't even sure anymore. All she knew was that she'd fallen for Dean Winchester so quickly and so thoroughly there was no going back.

His hand crept up her stomach, knuckles lightly brushing her skin, making it ripple with gooseflesh, making her breath come in quick, needy pants. And then his fingers spread out between the valley of her breasts, and between his thumb and forefinger he picked up the necklace she'd forgotten she wore, forgotten she'd kept to remind herself of him, to take comfort in. He held it there in his hand, staring at it a long moment, and then he shook his head ever so slightly. "Never gave up hope for a second," he muttered, not a question or a dig, but a statement. And she hadn't; not really. She'd been hurt and worried and she wondered what she could do, what made him so hopeless, but she never thought about giving up or giving in or really, truly walking away. The long haul; 'til death do them part. And according to what she was hearing about heaven, even _that_ wouldn't separate them since soul mates had their own ready made utopia upstairs. So he was stuck with her and vice versa and much as his stubborn, bull-headed, hero-saves-the-day-and-the-woman-whether-she-likes-it-or-not attitude often got on her nerves… she wouldn't want it any other way.

He dropped the necklace, let it lay there between her breasts, and then he kissed her. Not in a frenzy, not hurriedly, but with slow, meaningful passion. The kind that made her stomach drop out, her eyes well, and her chest thump louder. The kind that made her feel loved; right down to the roots of her hair. She shook, her toes curling into the sheet, and she wondered if he felt it too, if his heart raced like hers, if his throat felt hollow and tight with emotion. But then it sped up and her thoughts jumbled.

It was hot, the way his mouth fit against hers just right, how his tongue lazily stroked, stoking a fire deep in her belly that _ached_ for him. She could feel the heat inside her build, the dampness between her thighs making her noticeably slick. It felt like a lifetime since she'd been touched like this, since she felt this wanted. The hard weight of his jean-clad cock pressed against her hip. He felt big, huge even, and she realized in all of their time together, the one brief time they'd been this intimate, she hadn't even seen it, let alone touched it. He'd kept his jeans on then and she dearly hoped that wasn't the case this time. Back then, it'd been a whirlwind of overwhelming emotion and questions unanswered; back then, she'd told herself she wouldn't sleep with him until she knew his feelings were genuine.

While he might have reservations over her being in the fight, which was natural, he wasn't acting like this was a one-man-team anymore. They were all in it together; the four of them. Plus Cas, if he ever got back from wherever it was he disappeared to. No longer in the dark, Chloe felt like she was part of the team now, part of the _family_. He trusted her. He _loved_ her.

Her breath hitched in her throat a moment at that knowledge. She'd known it for awhile; at least a week since he told her on the phone, when he'd been off to his doom. But it hadn't had as much impact as now, as knowing there was no _immediate_ danger and that he was in this for a lot longer than either of them had expected. When Dean loved, he did it with all of himself. He might not say it often, hell she might not ever hear it again, but just knowing was enough. Feeling it was enough.

His knuckles dragged down her stomach, slow, teasing, and just as he drew his mouth from hers, nipping her lip, his full palm swept down and cupped her heat. It was possessive, the weight of his hand holding her so intimately, not stroking or delving inside, just holding her, as if he was staking claim in some archaic way. _Mine_ , he was saying. Forever. It was that thought, she supposed, knowing that she was, that she wanted to be, that he wanted her to be, that had her climaxing. Breath hitching, her back lifted from the mattress and she arched, spasming, her entirety tightening up as waves flooded through her, across her skin. His face buried in the crook of her neck, teeth and lips teasing her rapid pulse. Her thighs shook, a flood of wet heat flowing from her and into his hard palm.

Dragging his teeth down, he nipped at the tendon between her neck and shoulder and then curved his fingers, plunging two deep inside her still tender and fluttering core, scissoring them enough to make her buck against him. His thumb swept down, rubbing her clit in tandem with the stroke of his long, thick fingers inside her. Kissing down her chest, Dean rubbed his stubbled jaw against her breast, the friction making her nipple ache before he soothed it with the wet warmth of his mouth, his tongue twirling and dragging flat. One of her hands reached for him, grabbed a shoulder and squeezed, while her other fell behind her, gripping the iron bars lining the head of the bed.

He pumped his fingers deep inside her and the weight, the touch, was incredible, but it wasn't enough, it wasn't _him_.

"Dean," she cried, turning her head down to look at him.

Chin resting just beneath her breast, he panted, staring up at her through dark, hazel eyes. They flashed with desire and want and she bit her lip, her eyes falling to half-mass at the promise there.

Fingers leaving her depths, he licked them clean, making her stomach jump, her knees shake. He slid his hands slid down her body, following the curves of her sides, thumbs flicking along crease where her thighs met her waist. And kneeling there at the lower end of the bed, he hitched her legs over his shoulders, kissing and nibbling down the inside of her thigh, teasing her, all the while his eyes never left hers. Not as he inhaled deeply, eyes falling to half-mass as if her very scent was enough. Not even when he buried his mouth against her, when his tongue stroked down her folds, drawing figure eights and making her cry out gutturally, buck against him, tears of pleasure springing up in her eyes. He watched her every expression while he held her thighs apart and sank his tongue inside her, twisting it around so she could feel every inch of it licking her whole.

Her chest ached as she panted for air, as her fingers dug into the sheets and balled them into her fists. He brought her crashing over one wave, his teeth dragging against her clit as she arched for him, her back taut and her skin dewy with sweat. He never stopped or slowed, instead he dug his fingers into the skin of her thighs and licked faster, suckling her until she screamed, every muscle in her body tightening and spasming with the release of her orgasm. And still he continued, his hands sliding up her body to cup her breasts, squeezing, thumbing her nipples.

He kept changing up the pressure of his tongue; slow, swirling licks along her labia with hard, downward strokes against her clit, until finally sliding back inside her and then repeating the process enough to drive her lust crazy. She wasn't sure she could survive another climax but he was bringing her to one. One hand on her breast, he slid the other down, tenderly stroking her stomach before he spread his hand lower, his thumb pressed against her clit, circling it at random, while his mouth moved to suckle along her slit once more, tongue dragging along her opening but no longer sliding in. He played with her until she begged him, until she covered his hand at her breast and squeezed. And then he slid two long fingers inside her and pumped rapidly until she met her elusive crescendo with a whimper of appreciation.

Oh, but he was good at this. Really, damn good. And she wanted to return the favor.

Raising his head, licking his lips and panting heavily himself, he stared up at her, his chin glistening. He looked like he'd just gone a couple rounds with a linebacker; his chest heaving, stomach tense, rippled abdomen wet with perspiration. And his eyes… so dark and intense. Climbing up her body, muscles tightening and stretching lithely, his forehead fell to rest against hers, their bodies sliding together, slick with sweat. The feeling of his jeans against her skin was uncomfortable, especially between her thighs were she was most sensitive, still buzzing from his mouth. They scraped her tender inner-thighs. He kissed her deeply, the taste of herself still warm on his tongue. And she met each of his breathless kisses while still pushing his jeans from his hips, needing them off.

He reached between them, undid the button, and shucked the denim to the floor with a few hasty kicks of his legs. Lying there now with just the cotton of his boxer-briefs was close but not as naked as she wanted him. Still, while he was preoccupying her mouth, her hands were reaching between them, beneath the waistband to wrap her hand around the aching and responsive length of his cock. He jerked against her, a grunt exiting his lips and vibrating against her mouth. He was rock hard, long, thick, and pre-come wet her hand as she slid it low to take the whole of him into her palm. One long sweep, she gripped him tight, and he groaned, his arms shaking, almost unable to keep him up as he leaned into her touch.

He couldn't focus, his kissing slowed and she grinned, satisfied that she had all of his attention. Leaning into him, she had him sprawled on his back and she quickly slid on top. Hand still working him beneath the confines of his briefs, she kissed down his neck, teeth teasing. Lean muscles stretched as he arched his back up, her mouth exploring his chest while her fingers squeezed and stroked him. She swore he was getting impossibly bigger beneath her touch and told herself it was only because she couldn't see him. Then again, her only lover before had been Jimmy and her experience, though curious and passionate, was still limited.

She loved his chest; it was all hard plains and taut skin, scars that told stories and muscles bred from a lifetime of doing the right thing. Maybe it was just her love for heroes, or maybe it was because Dean was so very nicely sculpted. Regardless, it was like a playground for her hands to enjoy, her mouth to kiss, and watching the way his abdomen tightened in response, how his chest rose and fell quicker, told her she was doing something right. Dragging her tongue along his hipbones, she let go of him briefly only to shuffle his briefs down and out of the way. And then her eyes widened. Huh. So she wasn't imagining that. If Dean wasn't a hell of a lot bigger than Jimmy, the apocalypse wasn't at their heels. There was a sliver, a fraction, of fear. And then she looked at him, _knew_ him, and everything was more than okay again. There was no point in worrying when she knew he would always take care of her.

Spreading her hands along either side of his shaft, palms flat against him, she dragged her tongue along the slit at the head of his cock. Jerking, he moaned throatily. Chloe felt an inner smile, a blooming in her chest. After all the pleasure he'd given her, she wanted to give him some back. She would have happily spent hours enjoying every rigid inch of him, from the base of his shaft that she could hardly fit her small hand around to the tip that her tongue flicked rapidly, making him grunt and dig his heels hard into the bed. Instead, she took as much of him as she could into her mouth, hollowed her cheeks, and swirled her tongue up and down, in random shapes, wherever she could reach, slowly at first and then quicker, changing it up as she went. Her hands slid low, nails dragging along his inner-thighs, stroking all around and deep beneath his scrotum. She could feel as his orgasm built; she swore she could almost feel it in her own rapid pulse as he grew closer. And just as he would've come hard inside her mouth, she drew back.

Panting, he groaned loudly, eyes closed tight. The plains of his face looked sharper now; hollows and dips stark, sweat shining along his skin.

For a few seconds, she did no more than smooth her palm up and down his leg, waiting until he came back from the edge until she started all over again. He tasted hot, tangy, and the girth of him inside her mouth made her wet between her thighs, a pressure there that ached to be filled. She took her time exploring him; both hands teasing turgid flesh, she let her tongue trace every inch of him, remembering each place that made his fingers tighten in the sheets or a hoarse grunt escape his throat. She'd never done this before, she realized. Yes, she'd been with Jimmy in a similar way, but never had she paid this much attention, never had she wanted his pleasure this much.

Her mouth and hands worked him until he was desperate; her grip around his shaft hard, her mouth soft, and then the opposite. She learned him in ways she never imagined she would with a man, in ways she was sure no woman ever had with him before. These were places she would touch in future; places that made him ache and beg; places that only _she_ would know from now on. And if he thought he was the only one who could draw out the pleasure until near insanity, he was wrong. And she proved it. When he was nearing his fourth orgasm and she looked ready to bypass that one too, he shook his head.

"Com'ere," he growled, his voice thick, deep.

With a smirk, she climbed up his body, her breasts smooth along his chest. A leg on either side of his hips, she could feel the wet weight of his dick pressed tight against her own heat. It made her shiver in anticipation, made her eyes fall hooded. He tucked her mussed hair behind either ear and then dragged her down for a long kiss, the kind that took any teasing right out of her. Her body lowered until it was sprawled atop his, his shaft pressed close to her clit. "Mmm," she moaned against his lips while his tongue dragged along hers, along the roof of her mouth. She shivered, rocked her hips and felt the unyielding hardness of him so close and yet so far. She rubbed against him, unable to help it. And one of his hands slid down, behind her thigh, and squeezed.

It wouldn't be hard to lean back, lift herself and impale every shaking inch of her inner walls on his cock, but for some reason, she didn't. Instead, she kept rocking, kept sliding her wet folds up and down the length of him, over and over, using the friction to encourage the licking flames of ecstasy. He kissed her harder, hand gripping her thigh so tight she wouldn't be surprised if there were bruises later. Her breasts slid against his chest, nipples deliciously stimulated against the hard plains. He bucked up against her, pressing harder against her clit, against the wet, aching folds of her heat, and she cried out as a mini-spasm caught her unawares, and then he was rubbing so incredibly right against her and his hand had traveled low, fingers delving inside and massaging her quivering walls. Desperately dragging in air, she panted against his mouth and all too quickly, she felt it. Euphoria. It exploded and sent a shockwave through every inch of her until she shook violently, screaming his name until she was hoarse. And thrusting hard against her, growling her name in that thick, emotionally charged voice of his, Dean came hard, his arm wrapped tight around her in a crushing embrace.

She fell atop him completely rent of energy. Like a boneless heap, she couldn't imagine more than breathing for the next week. Her body thrummed with perfection, her skin was flushed and damp, and her hair stuck to her shoulders, her face. Ear against his chest, she could hear his heart pounding; with a smile, she knew it was in sync with her own. He stroked her back, long fingers dragging up and down her spine, slow and affectionate. Reaching up, he tugged sweaty tendrils of hair from her cheek and tucked them behind her ear.

Tired, she let her eyes close. "'m starting to think I won't survive if you ever actually get _inside_ me."

He laughed lowly, a rumble that made her toes curl.

Dragging the blanket up, he wrapped it around them both and she yawned. Nuzzling her nose against his chest, she pressed a kiss to warm, damp skin, and sighed. "Love you," she murmured sleepily.

And he stilled, his hand pausing at the small of her back.

It wasn't until she was so close to sleep she couldn't even form words that she realized she'd never actually _told_ him that.

"Love you too," he murmured quietly, his hand returning to its slow up and down ministrations, soothing her into sleep.

…

Hours. They'd been at it for _hours_. Sam was considering stock in earplugs. And then, _finally_ , Chloe screamed Dean's name so loudly there was _no way_ it could go on much longer.

"That's… disturbing," he muttered on a sigh, staring at the ceiling.

"Puh," Bobby scoffed. "That's life."

"No, that's sex." His brows furrowed, mouth screwed up in a half-frown. "That's… really _loud_ sex."

"How d'you think _you_ got here?" he reminded gruffly.

He blinked. "Are we seriously having this conversation?"

Bobby shrugged. "You brought it up."

"No… I brought up the fact that my brother and Chloe are having sex upstairs… and we can hear entirely too much."

Sighing, he sat back in his chair, turning another page in his book. "They'd've done it earlier, we might not have had to chase Dean around on his woe-is-me sacrificial trip."

Sam snorted. "You think having sex would've brought back Dean's _hope?_ "

Looking up at him, he cocked a brow. "No, _smartass_ , I think if those two had their shit together earlier, rather than dancing around the obvious, they'd be long married and Dean would have a helluva lot more hope than he's ever had before."

Forehead wrinkled, he had to ask, "For what?"

"You think just 'cause he changed his mind he's on the happy-go-lucky train and believes it's all gonna turn out right in the end?" He stared at him like he was an idiot. "Dean may have joined back up with the Free Will rebellion but he ain't seein' a light at the end of the tunnel." He shook his head. "'Least he wasn't before she gave him a reason to."

Sitting back, Sam's mouth hung open thoughtfully. "So you really think she's it, huh?"

Snapping his book shut, Bobby stared at him irritably. "Do I think she's his _soul mate?_ " He narrowed his eyes. "You know anybody else that smart _and_ that stupid enough to stick around with your brother through all this?"

Unable to help himself, he half-smiled. "No… I guess not."

"Well, if that don't spell 'made for each other,' I don't know what does." Bobby grabbed up another book and shook his head. "You got anymore questions, Einstein, or can we end the _apocalypse?_ "

Amused, Sam held a hand up in surrender, looking through his own book in hopes of finding some answers. He might not have found what would kill the devil, but he'd at least learned that even the gruff and often irritated Bobby Singer was rooting for his brother and Chloe. How that whole heart thing was going to save them in the end, he still didn't know. But he had hope.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXIII**.

Dean woke to find himself in a very empty bed. Immediately, his eyes shot open and he sat up, searching for a particularly cunning and often irritatingly smart soul mate of his. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. Last night, he was only going to stay with her until _she_ fell asleep and then he was going to sneak back downstairs and get his head back into the research game. But then clothes were shed and _God_ , she tasted so damn good. Her mouth, her heat, her skin… If heaven was taking suggestions, when he bit it he'd appreciation just a good bed and a ready and willing Chloe for him to please and be pleased by. How she learned a few of those tricks with her tongue, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. So long as it was only ever performed on _him_ with that very awesomely talented mouth of hers in future. Just thinking about it, he was getting hard again.

Why it was they never actually completed the deed, he couldn't say. He wanted her, _desperately_. He'd have sold his left nut if it meant getting inside her right that second. But he wasn't really complaining, either. If he wanted to get technical, they were progressing. The first time, he kept his jeans on. This time, he had _nothing_ on. So by all accounts, come their third totally innocent moment turned seduction, he assumed they might actually go the whole way. Either way, he was good. He felt more relaxed than he had in years. At least until he woke up and found her missing.

The pressure in his chest was worry, fear, and it ached in a way that made him jumpy. Getting out of bed, he dragged on his tossed jeans and went looking for her. He paused at the bathroom door, heard the shower running and rapped his knuckles against it.

"Yeah?" Sam's water-drowned voice shouted back.

"Never mind," he replied, continuing down the hallway. He took the stairs two at a time, feeling panic as his body tensed, eyes searching every which way.

It wasn't as if there were a whole lot of places she could go, or many that would have the balls to come inside Bobby's house and get past all three of them. But that didn't stop him from imagining the very worst of scenarios.

The front door was open and he was out it in a shot, only to come to a stumbling stop when he spotted blonde hair out of the corner of his eye.

She was sitting on the porch swing, one leg tucked beneath her, the other hovering a few inches from the wood floor. With a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumped. How this tiny woman could cause him so much grief, he didn't know. Crossing the porch, he took a seat next to her, spreading his arms out along the back. Immediately, she leaned over and into him, resting her head on his shoulder. His arm curved around her, hugging her close. It wasn't really early, just about lunch, probably. So it wasn't as if she'd wandered out for some sappy thing like a sunrise. The weather was a little cool, a breeze that might've caused him a chill seeing as he was half-naked. Instead, he just sat back, staring out at the piles of scrap metal and abandoned cars.

"How long you been up?" he wondered, his voice a little raspy with leftover sleep.

She shrugged. "Not long."

"Shoulda' woke me."

She glanced up at him, smiling. "You looked peaceful."

He pursed his lips. "I don't like waking up and finding you're not there." He shifted, uncomfortable with admitting something like that, feeling as though he was putting too much of himself out there. Hell, he'd already told her he loved her, which was like emotional suicide for him. His chest felt warm, however, when he realized she'd said it back. Half-asleep and shortly after he'd made her orgasm six or so times, but _still…_ That counted, right?

Sliding a hand up his chest soothingly, she murmured, "Sorry… I got restless. A little too much sleep for me lately."

He snorted. It'd been a long time since he could say the same.

They sat in silence a moment longer and Dean let his eyes close, let himself relax as he just held her, as they rocked back and forth. And then he thought he smelled bacon on the air and his stomach grumbled.

She chuckled lightly. "Why _exactly_ are you not wearing almost any clothes?"

He cocked a brow, smirking. "Don't pretend you don't like it."

Grinning, she rolled her eyes. "You're gonna catch a cold out here."

"Thanks for the warning, _mom_ …" But he stood up anyway, taking her hand and helping her up off the swing, keeping it in his own as they crossed the porch to step back inside Bobby's house. It was foolish, thinking on things like how her hand fit in his, how easily it was to want her close and have her.

Sam was coming down the stairs, meeting them in the front foyer, his hair dripping. He nodded hello and then darted his eyes away and Dean snorted, shaking his head. Apparently, his little brother heard them the night before; not surprising since neither of them had bothered being quiet. Still… It was amusing to see his brother slightly uncomfortably over the fact. Sometimes Sammy was such a prude.

Stepping into the kitchen, Dean licked his lips as the warm, sizzling scent of bacon wafted toward him. "Come to papa," he drawled happily.

"Breakfast, Bobby?" Chloe asked, lifting a brow. "You're spoiling us…" Her eyes thinned suspiciously. "What's up?"

"Figure you'd be hungry after last night's performance," he said, his expression saying it all.

Shifting uncomfortably, Dean and Chloe glanced at each other and then back at him, lifting their shoulders in a what-can-you-do fashion.

He rolled his eyes before adding, "And I thought I'd get in another cooking lesson with ya before I sent you three back out on the road." He rolled back from the stove.

"Back on the road?" Sam asked, brows furrowed. "Where to?"

"Richmond, Indiana," Bobby explained, leaning his arms on the rests. "There's been some serious weather anomalies out that way."

"And when you can't call the Ghostbusters…" Dean muttered, his hand falling to squeeze Chloe's hip before he crossed to take a seat at the small table.

Nodding toward the stovetop, Bobby said, "Check that, will ya, Sully?" Turning back around to the boys, he sighed. "Look, I know we were hoping to find something around here but… we're running out of options and this thing's got _Apocalypse Related_ written all over it."

"That's like a fourteen hour drive," Dean sighed, tossing an arm over the back of his chair.

"Well excuse me if the demons ain't plannin' this around what's good for _you_ , Princess!" He pursed his lips. "And since when is this a nudist colony? Where's your damn shirt, Don Juan?"

"Rulers away, boys," Chloe interrupted lightly. "This needs more pepper, Bobby."

He waved back at her. "You know where it is."

She held her hands up in teasing surrender. "Hey, you're the one who says I spice things too much."

Running a hand down his face, he sighed. "Fact is, you boys need to check this out."

Chloe cleared her throat loudly.

"Boys and _girl_ ," Bobby corrected, frowning.

She grinned.

"I dunno, Sam's kinda effeminate..." Dean added, lifting a mocking brow at his brother who only glared back.

"Look, _ladies_ , we need this taken care of and _soon_." He crossed his arms over his chest. "So?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a look.

"Fine… but you're paying our laundry bill this week."

With a roll of his eyes, Bobby gave an abrupt nod and it was settled.

…

It was good to be back in the Impala; it felt like coming home to Chloe. Too long she'd been without the comfort of the backseat. But with a new job in sight, whatever it might involve, she was camped out in her favorite spot. Sprawled with her feet up on the far armrest, next to where a plastic soldier had been shoved in and stuck inside the unused ashtray, she leaned her back against the door and propped her laptop in her lap. She had a few emails to get out of the way anyway. Both Oliver and Lois had written her, wondering how things were and if she was doing okay, and she'd received her weekly update from her dad, who was living safe and ignorant of all that was truly bad out there.

Sam was catching up on some sleep and it was with a happy grin that Chloe slid a balled up sweater beneath his head. This was what she was used to; what made sense now; what she liked about being back together with the two brothers. Dean had Led Zeppelin playing low in the front, the rumble of his baby a comforting noise. She watched him a moment, his hazel eyes set on the road, the collar of his favorite brown leather jacket popped around his neck, a neck that was ringed with the same white line of where his necklace used to lay and no longer did. Immediately, her hand lifted, took the pendant into her palm and squeezed, remembering how he'd paused over it the night before. When he needed it, she'd give it back. For now, she'd hold onto it.

Opening Oliver's e-mail first, she read through it quickly.

Short, precise, to the point; as was Oliver's way.

_It's been awhile, Sidekick. I know I said I'd give you some time to figure things out but if I don't get a reply soon, expect the cavalry to come looking for you. Bart would be happy to visit… and stay. I have a feeling your 'soul mate' wouldn't appreciate his sense of humor. Let me know what's up before I worry too much. –O_

Chloe rolled her eyes to herself, fingers flying across the keys quick and easy.

_Ollie,_

_Please try and keep the cavalry at bay. I'm fine. Really! I've even caught up on some of that sleep I was severely deprived of and I'm back to my usual self!_

_If it's any comfort, Dean's back on board and no longer playing the too-tired-to-fight card. Which means this apocalypse thing will likely get a lot worse before it gets better. No worries though, Big Green, we're on it! Trust me. ;)_

_And please, much as I love Bart, try and keep those wandering feet of his near you… Fast or not, I have a feeling Dean could still shoot him._

_Thanks for the concern, but… I've got this. And I know, I know, if ever I need you or the boys, you're there for me! But this is one fight I don't think you can help with._

_I'll write again when I can, but just know… You were right. This destiny thing, I think it will get better…_

_-C_

Much, _much_ better if last night was anything to go by. She felt herself flush at memories of his touch, of how he'd felt between her legs, heavy on top of her. He hadn't brought up her random declaration of love yet, though, and she wondered if it'd even registered. She'd been half asleep, though she hadn't meant it any less, and they'd had more than their fair share of bedroom gymnastics. All she knew for sure was that she'd said it, she'd meant it, and things between them were growing exponentially.

"What government agency are you hackin' today?" Dean asked, glancing at her through the mirror.

She half-smirked, banishing all thoughts about the night before. "It's a rare day but I happen to be leaving all government related branches to their business…"

"Yeah?" He cocked a brow. "So what're you writin' back there? A book?"

"Just a few emails." She lifted a shoulder. "Friends and family back home."

He stared a moment longer, waiting.

She sighed. "My boss, my cousin and my dad, all right?"

"Your cousin? Lois, right?" He pursed his lips. "She the one that called me a dip-something?"

Diphthong. Yes…" A snort escaped her. "Apparently a word of the day calendar and an argument between her and her boyfriend joined to insult you."

He grunted. "She was… _nice_."

Laughing lightly, she shook her head. "She's abrupt, ballsy, and awesome. But nice…? Only on a very good day, to those she really loves."

He nodded, shrugging. "And your boss?"

"He was worried. He picked me up after you and I… _parted ways_ and since he sort've knows what's happening, he's concerned."

Eyes narrowing, he stared at her. "He _knows?_ "

"He's not your average boss," she replied wryly.

"No, I guess not…" Brows furrowed, he frowned to himself.

Moving her laptop to the side, she slid along to the center of the seat and looked up at him. "What's up?"

"Nothin'," he muttered, glaring out at the road. "Just funny how things work out…"

"Like…?"

"Like you." He licked his lips. "Life you lived, people you knew… Anybody else in your position would be running for the hills or yellin' for a straitjacket, but you take it all in stride." He shook his head. "Guess I'm wondering if that's why fate or whatever picked you."

"Does it matter?" Reaching across, she dragged her fingers along his neck slowly, tracing the spot were his pulse thrummed. "I'm here now… I've already lived it and so have you. There's no changing any of it."

"But without all this…?" He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "I mean if we were both regular people, you think…" His brows furrowed. "You think me an' you would'a worked out?"

She remembered him asking something similar back when they'd first met, and she wondered why it was so important to him.

"I think… If things were different… We'd be very different people, living very different lives…" She stared at him thoughtfully. "Maybe I don't always like what happens or how, but if I was meant to live this very strange life only because it would lead me to you then… I can take the bad if it gives me the good."

There was a pause, his eyes lowering as if he'd heard her, even absorbed what she was saying. She really hoped he did; she hoped he believed her. Sometimes, he was too skeptical for his own good.

Suddenly, he swerved to the right and pulled the car off onto the shoulder. With very little time for her to process, Dean had turned around, one of his hands buried in her hair and dragged her forward. As soon as their lips met, she felt herself sigh, her mouth opening. They really had to do this more often, she thought vaguely. It wasn't going to last long, she knew. There was a seat between them and his brother was sleeping hardly a couple feet from them, but… He tasted so good. Warmth filled her body, slid across her skin like an air thin touch, caressing down her arms, along her spine, delving inside to make her shiver with desire.

Arms wrapped around his neck, she pressed forward, closer, wanting to feel his body against her own, wanting to shed clothes and have his skin pressed to hers. Instead, she felt his panting breath against her lips, his fingers dragging down her neck, tightening in her hair. Her lips were swollen from his teeth nibbling, his bruising kisses that left her wanting more, _needing_ more. Her eyes were heavy, half-lidded, when he dragged back from her, lingering now over a few short kisses that made her knees weak and her heart pound loud in her ears.

And then he was stroking her face, rough thumbs sliding down her cheeks and she smiled slowly, her eyes opening to look at him. Hazel had turned to dark pools of lust, of knowing, as he stared at her and she felt herself vibrate. He could've dragged her out of the car right then and screwed her on the hood of the Impala and she wouldn't have made the slightest motion to discourage him. Instead, he kissed her forehead, drew back and turned around to face the highway once more. And with a deep, shaking breath, she sat back in her seat, trying to control the rate of her heart.

Back on the road once more, Chloe shuffled back to her usual position against the door and brought her laptop up once more. With drugging kisses like that, it was amazing they hadn't already screwed each others brains out, yet. She wanted to fan herself but refused to give into the idea, knowing he'd see and though she loved that arrogant streak of his, she wasn't about to encourage it. Instead, she brought up Lois' email, hoping her cousin might take her thoughts off of a certain hot Winchester sitting just a few feet away.

 _Are you_ aware _how long it's been sinse you left? Srsly! What happened to a nifty think called a telephone or frickin' smoke signals! Anything to let me know you were alive and okay! Way to leave a girl in the very dramatic and not appreciated dark, cuz! You better be all right and if that hard headed (all be it hot) soul mate of yours has screwed this up somehow, I want details and coordinates so I can roast his ass! You just wait and see how heroic he is when I've got a tank turned in his direktion! YOU KNOW I CAN GET ONE!_

 _In any case, I expect a reply. SOON! Life back her in borring Metropolis has been just_ that! _Borring without you! Smallville is here and gone constantly! And the Red-Blue-Blur is becoming an all-too-seen sight here! Without you here, who am I supposed to complain to or be at aww with! I demand you end the apokalypse quickly and return to your ever faithful cousin's side. (psst, that's me!)_

_And if not doable, I vote you get your sex on with Hottie McTooHeroic Winchester and then write me a very explisit and detailed email about it… And if that's already happened… WTH! Where's my inside scoop?_

_I love and miss you, Lo!_

Chuckling to herself, Chloe rolled her eyes. Her cousin was insane… In a very loveable way. And desperately in need of a spell-check. If it weren't for Clark or that she didn't want to give him any more stress, she might've even introduced Lois to Sam. But as strong, smart and resourceful as the younger Winchester was… she wasn't sure he could handle the likes of Lois Lane. Still, Sam needed a little womanly intervention himself. Maybe, when this was all over, she'd do a little matchmaking.

Flexing her fingers, she wrote Lois back.

_Hey Lo… A week? Maybe more. I'm sorry! Really, I am! But when things happen, they don't really leave time for me to let you know. All is well here and I'll try my best to keep up on writing you back… As long as you don't bombard my inbox with all of your Clark-related complaining or Red-Blue-Blur crushing… That I might have to leave for a later date._

_Dean is better – maybe not quite so sacrificial and at least coming around to his old self. But things won't get any easier. I can't explain it all now, but just know that I'm with him and I'm okay. Pinky swear!_

_And please,_ please _, don't steal another tank!_

 _When has your life_ ever _been boring? You're probably chasing down terrorists or battling some crazy oil tycoon right now and_ still _you're telling me it's boring._

_lol, Lo, I'm doing my best and I hope this is over with soon… But when does anything ever really turn out the way we hope or expect, right?_

_No sex as of yet – very,_ very _close, but no cigar - I promise I'll keep you updated. (insert eye roll here!)_

_Love and miss you too. I'll write you again soon!_

_-Chlo_

After writing her dad and sending a hello to her step-mother, Chloe started browsing around for information on Richmond, Indiana. Bobby was right when he said there were some pretty big weather patterns going on around there. In fact, a lot of Indiana was suffering weird occurrences and they'd be driving right through it. It wasn't so unusual nowadays though; if she were to bring up her world map, she'd see it in various places. The demons were gathering, Lucifer was playing with the humans and the world was falling to the dogs. But if Bobby said there was something up in Richmond, she'd have to trust him. She just hoped it didn't get too hairy.

…

By the time they reached a small diner in Peoria, Idaho, they were getting irritable. Chloe ran inside to get them something to eat while Sam and Dean sat waiting in the Impala. Head leaned back against the seat, sunglasses on, Dean looked ready for a nap.

"Another five hours, give or take," Sam sighed.

Dean grunted.

"What is it Bobby thinks we're gonna find there?"

"Dunno…" Looking over at him, he lifted a shoulder. "Weather patterns don't lie though."

"And what are they telling the truth _about?_ "

Scoffing, Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "Do I look like a meteorologist?"

Sam blinked. "So we're just chasing after storms now?"

"It's the best lead we got right now, Sam. If you've got a better idea… Speak up!"

Muttering to himself, he shook his head, sitting back in his seat with a frown. "Are you surprised he and Chloe seem to be getting along better?"

Half-grinning, he lifted a shoulder. "She grows on you."

"Yeah," he had to agree with a slight smile. "But still, Bobby was pretty sure she was the bad guy…" His brows furrowed. "Or girl, I guess."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, well, she's not…"

Turning, he stared at him thoughtfully. "You really trust her, don't you?"

Licking his lips, he raised a hand and pushed his sunglasses up. "What's with all the questions?"

He shrugged. "I'm just… Surprised, I guess." Grinning, he added, "Happy for you, but… surprised."

Frowning, Dean turned his face away uncomfortably. "So maybe Fate didn't screw this up… Luck had to change some time."

He nodded slowly. "So what happens when it's all over then?"

"What d'you mean?" he grumbled.

"I mean…" His brows rose purposefully. "What happens when we end this, the apocalypse, and save everybody? She still comes on the road with us or…?"

"Or what?" He pursed his lips. "What else is there?"

"You're not serious?" Sam scoffed. "Dean… She lives in Metropolis; her job, her cousin is there…" He stared at his brother searchingly. "You don't think you could settle in there? Maybe, I dunno… Live that life?"

With a frown, Dean glanced at him. "When have I ever looked like I was made for that life?"

"Made for it or not doesn't mean you don't want or deserve it…" His forehead wrinkled. "You're gonna tell me you never thought about it?"

Sighing heavily, he lifted a hand to rub at his face irritably. "Yeah, Sam, I thought about it, okay? Some suburb in Metropolis with 2.5, a dog and really ugly mini-van, all right?"

"Kids?" He stared at him, surprised, and then smiled wryly. "I think I can actually see that."

"Are you listening to yourself?" Dean scoffed thickly. "Sam… It's not gonna happen. Even if we do this, we win, things aren't gonna be the same, but hell… They're not gonna be some fantasy happily ever after, man."

"Why not?" He lifted his shoulders high, questioningly. "Why are you so set against having that?"

"I'm not set against it, I'm realistic," he growled back, cocking his head. "Whether we win this or not, there's gonna be casualties, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was me or you or all of us…" His jaw ticked. "The last thing I wanna do is hope for something better only to get shafted, _again_."

Frowning, Sam shook his head. "That's the worst part, Dean! By not wanting it, not _hoping_ for it, you're _letting_ them win. You're giving up before you're even in the ring!"

"Then what d'you think I should do, huh?" He lifted his arms wonderingly. "What am I supposed to do, Sam?"

Jaw clenched, he sighed. "You enjoy it while you have it…" He stared at him, pausing for a moment. "You love her as much as you can _while_ you can."

Dean stared back at him, taking in his words, before finally he swallowed tightly and looked away.

The backdoor of the Impala opened then and Chloe climbed in. "All right," she sighed, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. "I've got one cardiac arrest on a bun with extra fries," she said, handing it to Dean. "One cob salad for Sam, and they didn't have iced tea, so I grabbed you a water." When he took it from her, she sat back and closed her door. "If you guys wanna eat, I'll drive!"

Dean cocked a brow back at her.

She grinned. "Hey, you can't blame a girl for trying."

With a roll of his eyes, he stuffed his burger into his mouth and then turned the key in the ignition, spitting up dirt and rocks as he sped away from the diner and back onto the highway. He had a lot of thinking to do and it was all over the pretty blonde in the backseat, currently eating rabbit food and balancing her laptop on her knees. Frowning, he glared at his brother. Stupid Sam and his stupid smartness.

…

It was raining. No, _pouring_. Like, torrential rains that were so thick they could hardly see out the window!

"This is _ridiculous_ ," Chloe muttered, staring out her window as what appeared to be a _waterfall_ blinded nearly all the windows.

"There's a motel up ahead," Dean said, squinting out the window at the blinking sign. "Elysian Fields."

"Weird…" She bit her lip. "You know, in Greek mythology, the Elysian Fields were the resting place for souls of heroes."

He glanced back at her with a raised brow. "Thanks, Webster."

She pursed her lips back at him. "Just saying…"

"I think we should keep driving," Sam interrupted.

They both stared at him. "Seriously?"

He shrugged. "I just think it's a little weird."

"There've been storms all over Indiana for the last few days, this is unusually _usual_ lately," Chloe reminded.

"Yeah, I know, but…" he sighed, unable to explain himself.

"Dude, I can't keep driving in this," Dean argued, swerving to the right and pulling over into the parking lot. "Look, we'll stay the night and take off tomorrow morning, rain or shine, all right?"

"Fine…" he grumbled, still suspicious.

When they came to a stop, the car was still rumbling beneath them. Reaching below, Dean popped the trunk. "Just grab what you need," he told them, before climbing out.

Rounding the car, they each grabbed a backpack of necessities and then ran across the wet pavement toward the glass hotel doors. Sam drew his coat up over his head to try and keep the pouring rain off while Dean held his high over his and Chloe's heads while she leaned in close to him as they hurried inside. Running inside, they came to a stumbling stop, eyes wide as they looked around. Unlike the usual shabby furniture and wall dressings in motels they ordinarily stayed at, Elysian Fields was furnished with spotless white chairs and couches, all of them modern and stylish. Marble floors, stainless steels lights and concierges in monkey suits walked about.

Dean cocked a brow. "Nice digs for once."

Chloe breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god."

Approaching the front desk, they waited as the clerk typed quickly along his keyboard. Leaning back against the desk, Dean watched his fingers and then glanced at Chloe.

She lifted a shoulder.

"Busy night," he said in greeting.

With a few more taps, the man behind the desk, wearing a suit and bow-tie said simply, "Any port in a storm, I guess." He reached across for a rectangular red and white pad and pushed it toward Dean. "I need you to just fill this out, please."

"Yeah," he replied, taking the pen and filling in the necessary places.

Chloe was itching to look around, her hands stuffed in her pockets as her eyes moved to and fro.

Staring at Dean, the clerk's brows furrowed. "Sir, I think you have a small shaving nick there," he said, motioning. Plucking a tissue out, he handed it over and frowning, Dean took it, pressing it to his neck. When he drew it back, he was surprised to see a spot of blood damp on the pristine white tissue. Before he could think much on it, the clerk held up a pair of keys.

"Your key."

"Oh, thanks," Dean said, taking it from him. He looked over at Chloe and then back, "Hey, you wouldn't happen to have a coffee shop, would you?"

"Buffet," the man replied. Raising an arm, he motioned to his right. "All you can eat."

Dean licked his lips.

"Best pie in the tri-state area," the clerk boasted.

His brows lifted with interest. "You don't say?" He smirked at Sam and then looked behind him. "Chlo… They got grub!"

"Shocking," she replied absently, before crossing back to stand with them. "Ready?"

"Yeah." Grabbing up their bags, he shifted hers on his other shoulder. Rubbing his hands together, he declared. "Let's eat!"

She rolled her eyes to Sam. "Four hours ago, he had a double cheeseburger."

He grinned. "Yeah, good luck dealing with _that_ when it catches up."

Snorting, she shoved him with her shoulder.

…

The buffet was filled with every decadent pie, cake and entrée she could think of. Her lips pursed as she looked up and down the table. It might look good but her spidey senses were tingling. Dean picked up two plates of different pies and ogled them both. Standing next to him, Chloe lifted a brow.

Looking over, a man nodded. "Heaven, right?"

Dean glanced at him. "Heh, trust me pal… Better." After he put one slice down, Chloe picked it up, knowing he'd end up eating most of it anyway.

Just as Dean meant to walk away, he paused, spotting a small Oreo topped on a cake.

Chloe stared up at him, amused, and he grinned, plucking it off. Biting half of it off, he held the other half aloft for her to eat. With a slight smile, she parted her lips and took it from him. Licking her lips, she shook her head. "You know, _eventually_ , all this pie is gonna start showing." Reaching over, she patted his rock-hard stomach pointedly.

He smirked. "'Til then," he told her simply, holding his pie up proudly.

With a hand at the small of her back, he directed her down the aisle, walking in between red-dressed tables. They took a seat across from Sam, who instead of eating was checking his cell phone.

Dean plopped his plate down on the table and sighed. "Sam, unpucker man, eat somethin'."

Sensing an argument, Chloe's attention wandered, spotting the concierge across the room. Maybe they wouldn't mind if she happened to take a look around while they talked…

Shaking his head, Sam looked up from his phone. "We should hit the road, Dean."

"In this storm?" His eyes widened. "What, it-it's—!"

"It's _biblical!_ " Sam interrupted seriously. "Exactly. It's friggin' Noah's Arc out there and we're eating _pie_ …"

Eyes narrowed, he asked, "How many hours of sleep did you get this week? What, three, four?"

Frowning, he looked away.

"Bobby's got his feelers out, okay?" he reassured, "We have talked to every hoodoo man and root woman in twelve states."

"Yeah, well, I'm not givin' up," he sighed.

"Nobody's giving up," he snapped back. "Especially me."

Sam's chin fell to his chest.

"We're gonna find a way to beat the devil, 'kay? Soon." He nodded, "I can feel it. And we will find Cas, we'll find Adam, but you are no good to be burnt out."

Sam stared a moment, eyes narrowed in thought, before finally he nodded. "Yeah… Yeah, okay."

"Come on," he said, grinning, "We have finally got the night off for once, let's try and enjoy it." He rubbed his hands together before snatching up his fork and eyeing his pie.

"Speaking of…" Sam looked around, brows furrowed. "Where's Chloe?"

"What? She's right…" Turning to his right, he found her seat empty. "Sonuva…" Throwing his fork down, he looked around. "You see which direction she went in?"

"Relax, she's probably in the bathroom," Sam replied hurriedly.

"Relax," he scoffed, standing up. "You _do_ remember what happens whenever we relax, right?"

He frowned. "Good point."

"I'll try her cell, you…" He shrugged, "see if you can't fit that hulking body of yours into the ladies room."

His eyes widened. "Dean! I can't just walk into the woman's bathroom."

"So yell her name from the door…" He motioned for him to go do it already while he dialed the number on his cell.

He hated panicking; it made him feel like he was out of control. With the things that had been bombarding them lately, he needed to have his eyes on her, on Sam, on everybody that mattered. Having her walk off on him, leaving him with no idea where she was or if she was okay was not working for him. At least with Sam, he could comfort himself knowing this his brother was no slouch; he could take on just about any baddie that came his way. And while Chloe had proven herself to be good with a gun and smarter than most, he didn't like the idea that she was out there and he didn't have her back. His heart hammered, a pain in his chest; damn it he was getting sick of that. How the mere _idea_ that she could be hurt or in danger turned him into a heartsick fool. He needed his head in the game; he needed to know that she was okay.

Seconds later, walking down a hallway just to the right of the dining room, he heard the familiar rock of Metallica and turned quickly, searching it out. He knew that ringtone, she'd changed his number to it a couple weeks ago. Following after the music, he turned left down a hallway and strained his ears. Just as he was about to take another left, he ran right into the woman in question. "What the—?" Grabbing hold of her shoulders, he glared at her. "Are you outta your mind?"

She pursed her lips. "Never proven but definitely hinted at by more than one person," she replied dryly.

"You mind _not_ runnin' off on me when we're in the middle of the apocalypse!" he exclaimed. Immediately, he felt his heartbeat slow, the worry that tended to make him lose sight of things began to dull.

"I can't _promise_ anything, but I'll do my best." Her lips curled in a slight smile. "Don't tell me I worried you. I was hardly gone five minutes."

He sighed. "Yeah, well, it was long enough for us to realize you weren't sitting at the table."

Her expression softened. "I didn't want to interrupt your very argumentative conversation, but… I had a hunch, so I followed it."

"Hunch?"

She shrugged. "I went scoobying; I just wanted to see what was up with this place." Her eyes looked around thoughtfully. "It's weird."

"It's nice, dry, and _hopefully_ job free," he muttered in reply. Without realizing it, his hands had slid up her shoulders, thumbs absently stroking her neck. "'m tired and I finally talked Sam out of hitting the road again. Could you _please_ stay in sight?"

Pouting, she lifted a shoulder, sighing with dramatic defeat. "If I must…"

Looking around the corner, he cocked a brow. "Where'd you wander off to anyway?"

"Somewhere in between Wonderland and Oz," she replied, hooking a finger in his jeans belt loop and turning him in the opposite direction, walking and tugging him along with. "Where's Sam?"

"Mentally scarring women in the bathroom."

Rolling her eyes up to him, she shook her head. "You're paranoid."

"I'm careful."

"Mmhmm…" Wrapping her arm around his waist, she rested her head back against his shoulder. "How was your pie?"

"Dunno… Came looking for you."

She gasped teasingly. "You gave up pie for _me?_ "

"Momentarily." As they entered the dining room once more, he eyed the table where a slice of vanilla and lemon flavored heaven sat waiting for him.

When a shriek rang out from across the room and Sam came hurrying out of the bathroom, Dean didn't bother hiding his laughter.

Glaring at them, he crossed to the table, readjusting his shirt uncomfortably. "I _told_ you she was fine," Sam said, nodding toward Chloe.

"Yeah, she was out playing investigator while you were ogling poor ladies." He half-smiled toward a woman walking past, eyeing them queerly. "Sorry… He's not trained for public yet."

Chloe elbowed him in the stomach. "If you two are done eating and arguing, can we head back to the room?"

"Yes, please," Sam muttered, uncomfortable with how the other people were still looking at him.

"You think they'll mind if I just take this pie with me?" Dean wondered hopefully.

Chloe and Sam rolled their eyes.

…

Five minutes later, they walked down a garish looking hallway, pausing as their room came closer. Next door to theirs, a man and woman were undressing each other, giggling as they necked for all to see. Bag dropped to the floor, the woman began shoving his jacket from his shoulders, and Dean half-smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at Chloe. With a snort, she rolled her eyes, following Sam inside the hotel room.

Dean whistled with appreciation as the much nicer digs came into view. Two queen beds were separated by an end table on the right, a white table and chairs sat off in the corner, brand new and freshly cleaned enough to gleam beneath the hanging light.

"Look at this, we're like the Rockefeller's," Dean said, dropping his and Chloe's bags on their bed. Reaching across, he plucked the wrapped chocolate from his pillow. "Chocolates!" he sighed happily, before glancing at Sam. "You want yours?"

He looked over at him. "Knock yourself out."

Grabbing it up, he tossed it in Chloe's direction, who caught it absently, still looking around the room with her brows furrowed.

"Hey, you guys are gonna catch some sleep, right?" she asked, glancing back at them.

Sitting back on the bed, Dean nodded.

"Yeah," Sam said, shifting his shoulders. "Why? What's up?"

"So, I know I said I'd say in sight, but…" She pursed her lips, lifting a brow. "I've been sleeping more this week than ever before in my life. You mind if I just go take a tour around? I'll be back in a little while."

He frowned. "I don't know…"

"Come on, Sam… I'll even take a gun if you're that worried." Not the least bit uncomfortable, she flipped her jacket up to reveal the glock on her hip.

"Where the hell'd you—" Dean shook his head. "Never mind." Crossing his arms over his chest, he cocked a brow. "Keep your cell on, and _answer_ it when it rings… You run into any trouble…" He pointed at her meaningfully.

She held her hands up. "Ask questions later and come running back to my two knights in flannel?" Rolling her eyes, she assured, "Got it." Turning on her heel, she walked toward the door. "Sweet dreams!" Walking out, she closed it behind her with a click.

Sighing, Dean frowned. "Now I'm not even gonna sleep 'til I know she's back here."

"You got it so _bad_ …" Sam chuckled.

"Shuddup…" Reaching over, he plucked up a TV subscription from the end table. "Check it out, Sammy, somethin' just for you and your lonesome… Casa Erotica 13 on _demand!_ " He wiggled his brows suggestively.

He shook his head, forcing a chuckle.

But his expression gave Dean pause. "What?"

He stared back at him. "Isn't this place kinda… in the middle of nowhere?"

Not getting it, Dean looked away and then back. "So?"

"So, what's a four-star hotel doing on a no-star highway?"

Brows lifted, he shrugged. Seriously? Why did something _have_ to be wrong? Couldn't their luck change, just _once?_

Giggling could be heard suddenly from the room next door and Dean's attention was drawn. "Look, I dunno…" He pointed at the wall, eyes wide with purpose, "But I do know _that_ could be _me_ if Chloe would quit with the scoobying and you'd just get some shut eye already."

Scoffing, Sam shook his head.

The laughter stopped next door, however, and suddenly there was a banging, loud enough that it made the wall shake, dust falling from where the bricks had physically moved. The TV hung sideways and the knick knacks on the dresser in front of it were still shaking.

Looking at each other, they shook their heads before hurrying out of their room and moving next door. Sam got the door open easily enough and the two of them stepped inside, eyes searching for any signs of distress. But the room was dark and the couple that had previously been making out like teenagers were nowhere to be seen.

"Hello?" Dean called out.

While Sam went right to check in the bathroom, Dean walked forward, seeing the bed unmade. There was no way they were packed and out of there that quick… And why would they leave in the first place?

When a glint caught his eye, he looked down, bent, and found a diamond ring winking from the carpet. Plucking it up, he stood, brows furrowed.

Sam stared at the ring, his eyes wide.

What the hell?

…

Dean dialed Chloe's number repeatedly, but received no answer. They made their way to the front desk, eyes darting to and fro suspiciously. As they paused in front of the same pencil thin man, bow tie in place, Dean said, "The, uh, room next to ours, the couple, uh, joined at the lips… Have you seen 'em?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Logan," he said, typing something into his computer before he looked back up with a stiff smile. "They checked out."

Staring back, unconvinced, the boys brows raised.

"Is something the matter?" The question should have been sincere, concerned, but there was something _off_ about his voice that just made it sound forced.

"They checked out?" Sam asked.

"Mmhmm," he looked back at the computer screen. "Mm, just now." He smiled swiftly.

"Really?" Sam's brows furrowed. "Sorta seemed like they were, um…" He cleared his throat in a slight laugh, raising his brows for emphasis. "In the middle of something."

The clerk shrugged his shoulders high, eyes wide in a what-can-I-say manner.

"Lemme ask you somethin'," Dean said, "Kinda weird for honeymooners to, uh, check out without this…" He lifted the diamond engagement ring for him to see, staring at him in wonder.

"Oh dear," the man said, inhaling dramatically. "I'll just put that in the Lost and Found." He plucked it from Dean's hand and reached below his desk. Looking between them, he grinned once more. "Don't you worry. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Dean stared at him, eyes narrowed. "Uh, no, no, we're good."

"Super fantastic," he drawled.

Sam nodded, smiling uncomfortably.

After a few more disconcerting smiles were shared, the two brothers stepped away from the desk.

"Creepy," Sam muttered.

"Broke the needle," Dean agreed.

Glancing back at the man as he looked through file folders, his back to them, they turned back to each other.

"Okay, well… I'm gonna scope out the place, find Chloe if she hasn't already gotten into trouble, while you keep an eye on Norman Bates here."

Sam sighed.

"I mean, one night off…" Dean walked past him, annoyed. "Was that too much to ask?"

…

While Dean went looking for Chloe, and any other weirdness he might find, Sam kept an eye on the desk clerk. He would've preferred to be anywhere _but_ with the very sneaky looking man, but a job was a job. And it seemed they weren't getting out of this one, even if they _did_ deserve a little break. Trying to be inconspicuous, he sat down at the busy and booming Astro Lounge, blending with the crowd, a drink in hand but never touched, his eyes keenly turned toward the desk clerk.

When finally he left the main desk and turned down the hallway, Sam carefully followed after him at a distance. It was short-lived, however as just after the clerk turned off from the main hall, Sam followed only to find nothing but a vending machine at the end. Brows furrowed, he looked around in confusion. More than few scenarios ran through his mind; where could a guy disappear to without any visible door? Could be a hidden door only staff knew about, could be the clerk was an angel or had some other power that got him from point A to B, could be any number of things.

Suddenly, there was a pain in his neck and his hand rose automatically, searching it out. As he brought it back, his fingers were wet with blood. Confused and suspicious, he looked around, but found no culprit.

Things were getting weirder and weirder.

…

Catching the elevator up to the next floor, Dean stepped out into an empty hallway and produced his EMF reader, while his cell was in his other hand, calling Chloe, _again_. Attention on the ringing of the phone and his handheld EMF, he almost didn't notice the very large _elephant_ in a room to his right. Pausing, certain he'd heard the same kind of noise he might on frickin' Animal Planet, he backed up to see if he hadn't just imagined a giant grey elephant. But when he appeared at the door, he saw only a husky black man in a small white towel, glaring at him.

"This ain't no peep show man," the guy said, walking across to close the door in his face.

Dean's eyes widened. _What the hell?_

Chloe's voice mail picked up and clearing his throat, he lifted his cell back to his ear. "You are _not_ gonna believe what I thought I just saw…"

…

"An elephant?" Sam asked, walking next to his brother as they reentered the front lobby.

"Yeah."

"Like…" He raised his arm questioningly. " _An elephant?_ "

"Like full-on Babar," Dean told him.

"So what the hell is…?" Sam trailed off, noticing the obvious difference as they stood at the front desk. There was nobody there; not one person to be seen. Not ten minutes ago, he'd been surrounded by other people, in the lounge or by the still flickering fire. "Where is everybody?" he asked, brows furrowed.

Looking around, Dean's forehead wrinkled.

Walking toward the door, Sam reached for the handle only to find the door wouldn't open.

"Lemme guess, it's locked," Dean sighed. "So what? The roaches check in, they don't check out?" Dragging his phone out, he dialed Chloe again, cursing when it continued to ring without her picking up.

Realization hit and Sam stared at the floor. "Think about how we got here…" He looked up, crossing back toward him, angry now. "That detour on I-90… The friggin' hurricane…"

Dean's brows wrinkled, lifting as he turned to him questioningly. "You sayin' we were lead here?"

Jaw ticking, he shook his head before saying seriously, "Like rats in a maze."


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXIV**.

"She's not picking up," Dean muttered, snapping his phone shut once more as they walked up and down hallways, looking for people, _anybody_ , and coming up empty.

"Maybe she turned the ringer off," Sam offered.

He glared at him. "I specifically told her to answer her damn phone. Why the hell would she-?"

"I dunno," he interrupted, lifting his shoulders. "I was just hoping you'd stop freaking out!"

"I'm not freaking out!" he exclaimed irritably.

Eyes wide with emphasis, he replied sharply, "Uh, _yeah_ , you are!"

Pursing his lips, Dean glared at him darkly. "Yeah, well, when my-" He frowned. "Whenever Chloe goes missing, things don't turn out well!"

"Why won't you just say it?" he muttered in reply, sighing.

"Say what?" he grumbled, peeking in another room to find it empty.

"Soul mate, girlfriend, _whatever_ it is she is to you… You keep starting that sentence and then change it." He shook his head. "The only one in denial about this anymore is _you_ … And I don't even see how that works since you already told her you love her."

"Can we _not_ talk about my relationship with Chloe right now?" he grumbled.

Sam sighed. "Sure, fine…"

They paused in front of the swinging doors that lead into the kitchen, glanced at each other and then stepped inside. Like all the other rooms before it, it appeared completely empty. Though pots were still boiling and pans sizzling, stating quite clearly there were in fact people there once. Walking past metal shelves, they looked around at the various items of food left sitting out or waiting to be used. Stopping next to a pot of bubbling red liquid, Dean muttered, "Please be tomato soup, _please_ be tomato soup," as he reached for the ladle and lifted it up, only to find a pair of human eyeballs at the end of the spoon. Dropping it, he held his hand up and turned away while Sam sighed, disgusted.

Frowning, Dean shook his head. "Motel Hell."

Brows furrowed, Sam stared at the door to the freezer thoughtfully, walking toward it slowly. Leaning down to see in through the black window, his eyes narrowed. Suddenly, a pale hand reached up and slapped the glass. "Help us!" a man's voice cried out. "Get us outta here!"

Jumping back in surprise, Sam immediately reached for the handle, only to find it locked. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his lock-picking tools.

"Hurry up!" Dean told him.

"Moving as fast as I…" He looked up, eyes wide, and stood a little straighter. "As I can," he finished.

"There's somebody behind me, isn't there?" Dean asked, without looking.

Two men, tall and thick, and they soon escorted the two Winchesters into a private room, despite their struggling.

As they came to a stop, Dean and Sam stared at the table full of people. What looked to be a conference area was dressed in the same garish colors and furniture as the rest of Elysian Fields. With tables set up in the shape of a horseshoe, ten or so people sat staring at them.

"Ganesh," read the name tag of the same man Dean had seen earlier, certain that he was an elephant.

Eyes flashing to another man, white with silver hair and a firm expression, his nametag read, "Odin."

Dean's eyes moved to the woman in red at the front of the room. He remembered her from the dining room. Dark skin, red lips, slim, curvy body; he might've paid more attention to her under different circumstances. Her name read Kali.

Head turning, he watched as one of the men who'd caught them in the kitchen took a seat; dark-skinned, with an eerie expression, he stared darkly back at them. His name was Baron Samedi, and across from him sat Zao Shen, the other man who'd dragged him and Sam away from the people locked and scared in the freezer.

As the doors closed behind them, Sam and Dean turned back regretfully and then returned their gazes to the room. "Something tells me this isn't a shriner convention," Dean muttered.

As the front clerk appeared, he pushed a cart in front of him, a silver platter with a matching top covering it. "Dinner… is… served," he said, removing the cap to reveal a severed head, surrounded by entrails.

While the guests clapped, Sam and Dean stared on with wide eyes.

A spotlight appeared then, shining down on the two of them.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a man said in an English accent, his nametag reading Baldur. "Our guests of honor have arrived."

_Shit._

…

"I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to be wandering around here," a voice said, drawing Chloe's attention.

Whirling swiftly, she glared at the man in front of her. Her hand drew back, finding the hard and unforgiving grip of her glock. It'd take a minute to get it out and she regretted not being more prepared, but then… Nothing said she was in danger. _Yet_.

Dark wavy hair, a long, narrow nose and almost beady dark eyes stared back at her, a smirk curving his mouth that spoke more of mischief than danger.

"And you are?" she asked, pursing her lips.

"Important," he told her with simple arrogance. He cocked his head. "And I see you are, too…" Eyes narrowed, he shook his head. "This isn't the right place for you to be flexing your investigative skills, kid."

She scoffed. "Thanks for the heads up, but until you can prove you're anything more than an underpaid security guard, move along."

He grinned slowly. "I _like_ you."

Hands on her hips, she stared up at him. "Look, much as this conversation is _stimulating_ , I have more important things to do." Turning on her heel, she meant to leave, until his voice had her stopping abruptly.

"Like saving a couple of dopey brothers currently being held hostage?"

She turned slowly, eyebrow raising. "You want to repeat that?"

"Sure." His voice had moved and so she turned her head only to find he had reappeared mere inches to her right. Startled, she took an abrupt step back. He smirked. "Dean and Sam are currently behind closed doors, being treated as chess pieces in this fun game of angels versus demons versus gods… Oooh, goody," he muttered sarcastically.

"Who _are_ you?" she asked, staring at him suspiciously.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he tugged her forward until they were walking down the hallway. "Let's just say… I'm a friend of a certain soul mate's and that I _might_ be willing to help you out of this particular problem."

Frowning up at him, she cocked a brow. "At what price?"

"I might need your help…" He smirked slowly. "But to do that, I'll need you alive…" He cocked his head. "And to keep you alive I can't have you seen, so…" He snapped his fingers. "Voila!"

Chloe looked down at herself, only to see… Well, _nothing_.

Whoever he was, he'd just made her invisible.

…

Seats were soon provided and too shocked to do much else, the two Winchesters sat down, both trying to figure out what to do and how to react.

What the hell was going on?

Clinking his glass with a fork, Baldur drew everyone's attention once more. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming." Looking around the room, he continued, "In all my centuries, I never dreamed I'd see this. This many Gods under one roof."

Slowly, Dean and Sam looked at each other.

" _Gods?_ " Sam whispered.

"Now before we get down to brass tacks, some ground rules," Baldur went on. " _No_ slaughtering each other." He held his hands up, pointing. "Curb your wrath." He smiled slowly. "Oh, and uh, keep your hands off the local virgins, will ya? Tryin' to keep a low profile here."

"Oh, we are so, _so_ screwed," Sam breathed.

"Now we all know why we are here," he said, "The Judeo-Christian apocalypse looms over us." He looked at them all. "I know, we've all had our _disagreements_ in the past… But the time has come to put those aside and look… toward… the future…" He stared seriously. "'Cause if we don't… we won't have one."

The room stayed silent, thinking, ruminating.

Taking a deep breath, he announced, "Now we do have _two_ very valuable bargaining chips." He pointed to the boys at the back. " _Michael_ and _Lucifer's_ vessels. The question is… what do we do now?" His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Anybody have any bright ideas? Speak up! This is a safe room."

Zao Shen stood up, glaring at the two brothers and growling in Chinese, "What do we do? We _kill them!_ "

"Whoa, I don't like his tone," Dean muttered to Sam.

"Kill 'em?" Ganesh scoffed. " _Why?_ So the angels here can bring 'em back again?"

"I dunno what everybody's gettin' so worked up about," Odin intervened. Leaning back in his seat, one arm tossed over the back of his chair, he lifted his hands carelessly. "This is just a couple of angels havin' a slap-fight. There's no Armageddon. Everybody knows when the world comes to an end, the great serpent Jörmungandr rises up and I, myself," He grinned at the God next to him, "will be eaten by a _big wolf_." He laughed ruefully.

Zao Shen sighed. "Here we go…" he muttered in Chinese.

"Oh yeah?" Odin snapped back. "And why is that? Because your beliefs are so much more realistic?" Glancing at Ganesh to his right, he drew his arm down and smiled sarcastically. "Whole world's gettin' carried around on the back of a giant _turtle_ …" He laughed. "Give me a break."

Zao Shen cocked his head, growling, "Don't mock my World Turtle!"

Jumping up from his chair, Odin leaned across the table. "What are _you_ gonna do about it!"

He pointed at him angrily, his brows knotting. "I'm gonna send you packing to Valhalla!"

"You watch your mouth when you talk to me boy!" he snarled.

"Boy?" He threw his arms up. "I'm _older_ than you!"

Seeing the distress between the gods, Sam and Dean slyly left their seats to try and make a break for it.

"No one's ever proved that!" Odin denied.

As the two brothers stood up, a chandelier fell, crashing to the floor in front of them, effectively stopping them in their tracks.

Rising from her seat, Kali demanded, "Stay!"

Turning back around, they said nothing, instead staring at the imposing figure she made.

Drawing her shoulders back, Kali moved her eyes around the Gods before her. "We have to fight," she told them. "The archangels, the _only_ thing they understand is violence," she drawled in a slow, encouraging voice. "This ends in blood. There is no other way. It's them… or _us_."

"With all due respect," the front clerk interrupted, smiling quickly, his face paling when Kali turned her sharp eyes on him. He lifted his hands in a calming gesture. "We haven't even tried _talking_ to them," he reminded, looking around at the others.

Kali stared, her eyes darkening with wrath, she watched in dark satisfaction as he reached for his throat, tugging at his collar and choking for air. Blood spurted from his lips and he leaned forward, struggling, his eyes wide and looking imploringly at the cruel and uncaring Goddess staring down at him.

"Kali…" Baldur sighed, head dropping in near amusement.

Suddenly, he could breathe again, his hand falling from his throat.

"Who asked you?" Kali wondered condescendingly, never taking her eyes from him.

Still struggling for air, he didn't reply.

The door behind the two Winchesters opened suddenly then, drawing everyone's attention.

And in walked Gabriel, archangel extraordinaire, exclaiming, "Can't we all just get along?"

Turning to see him, Sam's mouth dropped open. "Gabr—"

Slashing his hands in a cutting-off motion, Gabriel stared thin-eyed at the people in front of him.

Sam and Dean struggled to talk, making no more than choking noises.

Tisking, Gabriel walked forward. "Sam… Dean… It's always wrong place, _worst_ time with you two mutton heads, huh?"

"Loki," Baldur greeted in a low tone, standing from his seat.

Gabriel turned to look at him, answering to the old Trickster adage. Cocking his head back, he smiled sarcastically. "Baldur," he replied, walking between the two brothers and through the opening of the tables. "Good seeing you, too." Lifting his brows, he added, "I guess my invitation got lost in the mail."

" _Why_ are you here?"

Gabriel stared at him darkly, a natural curve of his lips making it appear as though he were smirking. "To talk about the elephant in the room."

Offended, Ganesh moved to stand up.

" _Not you!_ " he intervened, pointing to him and turning his head with a cock of his brows. Returning his gaze to Baldur and Kali, he amended, "The _apocalypse_." Pausing, he watched their faces drop and then told them, "We _can't_ stop it, _gang_." Eyes narrowed, he glared back at Baldur but then perked, lifting a finger in the air to make a point, "But first thing's first…" Turning around, he nodded toward the two Winchester brothers. "The adults need to have a little conversation…" He dragged in a breath. "Check ya later!" Snapping his fingers, he removed them from the room.

…

Back in their original room, Dean and Sam both struggled for breath… and understanding.

"Okay… Did that…" Dead stuttered, eyes wide. "Holy crap!"

Sam nodded, "Yeah! Tell me about it." Breathing heavy, he added, "By the way, next time I say 'Let's keep driving,' uh…" He waved his hands for emphasis, "Let's keep driving!"

Dean nodded vigorously. "Okay, yeah, next time!"

"Uh," Sam dragged a hand down his mouth. "All right, so what's our next move?" He stuck his hands on his hips.

Waving a hand, he said simply, "We find Chloe and then… I-I-I dunno…" He shrugged. "We grab those poor saps out of the freezer, I guess. Bust 'em out." He stared at his brother, brows knotted. "Gank a few freaks along the way if we're lucky."

"And _when_ are you ever lucky?" Gabriel's voice interrupted, drawing their attention to him. Sitting on a couch, feet on the glass coffee table, crossed at the ankle, and his arm casually holding his head up, he smirked at them.

"Well, you know what, bite me Gabriel."

Brows furrowed, he shook his head. "Don't think the missus would take too kindly to me poaching on her mister, but maybe some other time."

"I should'a known…" Dean sneered. "I mean this had your _stink_ all over it from the jump.

His eyes widened, both in amusement and surprise. "You think _I'm_ behind this." He kicked his legs off the table and sat up. "Please." Rising from the couch, he told him, "I'm the Costner to your Houston. I'm here to _save_ your ass."

Brows high, he motioned between him and Sam. "You wanna pull _us_ outta the fire?"

"Bingo."

Arm falling, Dean and Sam stared at him in confusion.

"Those guys are either gonna dust you or use you as bait. Either way…" He lifted his hand, using a 'Rock On' sign to point at them, "You're _uber-boned!_ "

"Wow, 'cause a couple months ago, you were telling us to… _play our roles_." He cocked a brow, demanding an explanation. " _You_ were uber-boning _us!_ "

"Oooh!" he crowed, cocking his head happily, "The end is still nigh!" Swaggering past them, he added, "Michael and Lucifer are still gonna dance the Lambada!" Imitating the dance, he then paused, sobering and turned back to them. "But not tonight." Staring up at them from beneath heavy brows, he said, "Not here."

Dean glanced at Sam and then shook his head. "And why do you care?"

"I don't… _care_ …" Uncomfortable, Gabriel stuffed his hands in his pockets. "But, me and Kali, we uh…" His eyes fell to the floor. "Had a _thing_." He looked up at Sam, rocking back on his heels. Smirking at Dean, he added, "Chick was all hands!" and chuckled under his breath. Looking between them and getting no response, he said hurriedly, "What can I _say?_ I'm sentimental!"

Sam sighed. "Do they have a chance?"

Eyes narrowed, Dean looked sharply at him.

"Lickin' Satan?"

"Sam!"

He turned to him, frowning. "Do you have a better idea, Dean?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, now…" Gabriel motioned between them and then over to Dean. " _He_ has an Ace up his sleeve…" He smirked slowly. "Or more accurately, in his _bed_."

Brows furrowed, Dean glared at him. "What d'you know?"

Rocking back, he grinned. "A _lot_ more than you do, Big Guy."

"Wait, so this thing with Chloe…?" Sam wondered, hopefully. "It might actually work?"

"If by _might_ you mean tiny chance in _hell_ … Mmm... No." He shook his head, pursing his lips. "Look, whatever this thing is with Dean and the snarky blonde, the others are staying tight-lipped. I don't know _what_ it is or _how_ it's supposed to work but I do know my brothers…" Cocking his head, he stared seriously at Dean. "You think that tiny little sprite's got it in her to kill _Lucifer_ with her _heart?_ " He winced, glaring behind him suddenly, at something the boys couldn't see. "Sorry. Neck spasm… It's a… thing…" At their expressions, he nodded. "Right. Whatever."

"Okay, then, ignoring Chloe's very small chance at helping us… Can the Gods in there do something to stop this?"

Sobering, Gabriel stared at him darkly. "It's a _bad idea_. Lucifer's gonna turn them into _finger paint_." He nodded, backing up slowly. "So let's get going while the going's good, hm?"

"Okay, great," Dean muttered. He whirled his finger around. "Why don't you just zap Chloe in here with us and then take us all outta here then?"

"Would if I could," he said with bright sarcasm. "But Kali's got _you_ by the short and curlies."

Sam's eyes widened.

"It's a _blood spell_ …" he explained, glancing between them, frowning. "You boys are on a _leash_."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked, shaking his head.

"Means it's time for a little of the old…" He lifted a mouth spray up and spritzed twice, "black magic."

"Okay, yeah, well, whatever, we're gonna track down my—" He frowned, motioning backward with his thumb, "uh, Chloe and take the hors d' oeuvres in the freezer with us."

"Forget it!" he declared. "It's gonna be hard enough sneaking _you mooks_ outta here."

Jaw clenching, Dean glared at him. "They called you _Loki_ , right?"

Gabriel raised his brows in a 'Yeah, so?' fashion.

"Which means they don't really know who you are…" he continued, brows high.

"Told you, I'm in _Witness Protection_."

"Okay, then how 'bout you do what _we_ say," he decided, walking toward him. He cocked a brow, daring him to argue. "Or we tell the, uh, Legion of _Doom_ about your secret identity."

He stared back, unmoved.

"'Cause they don't really seem like a _pro-angel_ kind of crowd," Dean finished, waving his hands for emphasis.

Stepping toward him, Gabriel warned, "I'll take your voices away."

"We'll right it down," he countered.

"I'll cut off your _hands!_ "

"Well the people are gonna be askin', 'Why are you guys runnin' around with no hands?'" He flashed his brows.

Glaring, Gabriel looked between them, inhaled deeply and said, "Fine!"

Dean smirked.

"You get the Human Popsicles and I'll get the leash out of Kali's vengeful hands." Turning on his heel, he snapped his fingers. "Come on, Sparky. I might need your five-finger discount."

As he left the room, Dean and Sam looked at each other. "Who was he _talking_ to?"

…

"I'm _not_ going to watch you hook up with Killer Barbie," Chloe told him on a sigh.

Gabriel scoffed. "I do my best work when I'm being watched." He wiggled his brows for emphasis.

Snickering, she rolled his eyes. "Look, you have it all figured out anyway. What do I need to be there for?"

"First, if this goes South, you need to know where her room is and where the vials are," he reminded in a 'duh' tone. "Secondly… You've been upgraded from Sidekick to armory."

She blinked. "Explain."

He only smirked in reply.

She was really getting tired of that.

…

In her private room, Kali slid the red robe from her shoulders, revealing black lace. Looking at herself in the mirror and brushing her fingers through her finely coiffed hair, she didn't so much as flinch when the lights around her turned off in reply to a snap of fingers from behind. Two candles lit swiftly and there sitting at the edge of her bed was none other than Loki, a red rose in hand. He smirked up at her in that mischievous way he was well known for.

"Bonjour, mon amor," he drawled cheesily.

Dragging her fingers through her hair, she smiled darkly, ordering firmly, "Leave."

He grinned, unmoved. "You always did play hard to get."

"I've moved on," she said emotionlessly.

"I've noticed." Amused, he muttered, "Baldur? _Really?_ "

Turning around to stare at him through the reflection of her mirror, Kali said simply, though her expression showed some sadness, "Baldur's uncomplicated."

Rising from his seat, he walked to the table holding the bottle of chilling champagne, pouring them each a glass.

"I never took you for the type," she said, turning to look at him.

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Romantic?"

She stared a moment, lips pursed. " _Pathetic_."

Lifting his glass, he half-smiled. "You're the one who called me here."

"Because I thought you might take this _seriously_."

Taking a drag of his champagne, he frowned at her. Swallowing, he raised his hands. "I'm takin' this seriously. Ship's sinking, time to get off…" he drawled lazily. Shrugging, he screwed up his face indifferently, "I mean, screw this marble. Go check out Pandora."

Shaking her head, she told him softly, "It doesn't have to be like that."

Sighing, he stared at her from beneath dark, thinned eyes. Crossing the room, he cocked his head. "'Fraid it does." He widened his eyes then for emphasis.

"If we fight—"

"You die," he told her simply.

Annoyed, she wondered, "And what makes you such an expert?"

"I've tussled with those winged _ass-monkeys_ once or twice."

She raised her chin thoughtfully.

"Kali…" He reached for her, taking her hand in his. "No more tricks." He stared at her seriously, brows lifting imploringly. "I'm beggin' you… Don't do this…"

She stared at him, murmuring, "I have to," with more feeling than she often put into words.

He lifted his chin then chuckled slightly under his breath in defeat, bowing his head. Smacking his lips, he lifted a shoulder. "Can't blame me for trying…"

She smiled.

Tipping his head, he asked, "Still love me?"

Lips still curved, she thinned her eyes but showed no menace. "No."

After a long, tension-filled moment, her arm lifted; she grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him forward for a kiss.

…

Dean and Sam slipped back into the kitchen, hell bent on saving the half-frozen human dinners. Kneeling on the floor, Sam took out his lock-picking kit and got to work.

Looking from him back to door, Dean frowned. "You think she's in there?" His brows furrowed. "Would be kinda _like_ her to get her ass thrown in the freezer with the rest of these saps…"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Is now the time?"

"I can't help it," he grumbled. "The not-knowing is killing me."

"Yeah, well, if you don't let me concentrate there's a room full of Gods ready to BBQ you instead."

"Geez, you're in a pissy—"

Before he could finish, hands wrapped around his shoulders and with eyes wide, Dean went flying through the air and into the painfully unforgiving metal serving cart across the room, courtesy of Zao Shen. Turning back around with a growl, teeth bared, he attack Sam next, wrapping a meaty hand around his throat and pinning him to the door, high enough that his feet struggled to find purchase. The tight grip of Shen's fingers cut off all air making its way to Sam's lungs and was quickly gaining enough pressure to snap his neck in half.

Struggling to stand up and shake off his pain, Dean used the cart to hold himself up, looking back at his brother who was trying and failing to push Shen away. Grabbing up the nearest weapon, a thick wooden leg off a smashed chair, Dean rushed them, slamming the sheared off, pointed edge right through Zao's chest and out the other end. Groaning, his head turned side to side as it burned up red and then black, before his Godly visage disappeared entirely.

Let down, Sam panted for breath, reaching for his mangled throat.

"Where the hell is Gabriel?" Dean wondered angrily.

…

One hand stroked up Kali's soft, arched back. Oh, but it was nice to get his fingers on her tender, dark skin once more. Her hair brushed the back of his hand and the scent wafted to his nose, filling his senses with old memories. Still, much as he delighted in warming up an old flame, he had more than just her on the plate. Pushing her hard against the dress her behind her, he hoped to use his tongue as a distraction while his free hand searched the top of the bureau for the two vials of Winchester blood she was using to cage the idiots downstairs. Contrary to his many multi-tasking skills, it was hard for him to focus on kissing her and stretching his fingers toward the small glass bottles.

Just as they were in reach, however, and his mouth curled in a satisfied smirk, he felt a pinch at his neck.

"Ow!" he snapped, drawing back, only to see her disappointed expression staring up at him.

Mussed dark hair fell around her shoulders, reminding him of days before angel wars and apocalypses. Before he had any more responsibility than that of a Trickster out to teach his own kind just desserts. Times when spending a few decades warming Kali's beds were easy and wanted, rather than a complicated ruse.

"You must take me for a fool," she sighed, " _Gabriel_." Lifting her hand, wet with his blood, she told him darkly, "You're bound to me. Now and forever."

Staring at the crimson stain on her fingertips, he lost his usual smirk.

 _Hell_.

…

Shoved back into the Grand Ballroom, Dean and Sam sighed to themselves, disappointed to not only see the many faces of the irritated Gods, but Gabriel sitting at the front, frowning up at Kali. Rolling his eyes, Dean shook his head. Well, that idea just blew up in their faces!

"How long have you known?" Gabriel asked, staring up at Kali curiously.

Dark, even sad, eyes bore down on him. "Long enough."

Shoved into a couple of seat next to Gabriel, Dean and Sam grunted.

"How's the rescue goin'?" Dean wondered sarcastically.

Looking back of his shoulder, Gabriel frowned at him, eyes narrowed. Smiling sarcastically, he turned back to Kali as she began speaking to the rest of the Gods.

"Well, surprise, surprise…" she sighed, before turning back to look at him. "The Trickster has _tricked_ us."

"Kali," he asked, lifting his brows imploringly, "Don't."

"You're mine now," she warned, leaning down and turning to take a seat in his lap. Dragging the back of her nails down his neck, she murmured, "And you have something I want…" Hand sliding across his chest, she slipped it beneath his coat to drag out the silver sword he kept there. Lifting it up with a quick flick of her wrist, she held it appreciatively. Turning back to him, she said, "An Archangel's blade." Looking at the silver weapon, she then said, her voice louder and shaking with both hurt and anger, "from the Archangel… _Gabriel!_ "

The Gods amongst the room all turned to look at each other in questioning confusion.

Standing from his lap, Kali took a step away from him in burgeoning disgust.

"Okay, okay…" Gabriel sighed, lifting his arms. "So I got wings… Like _Kotex_ ," he muttered sarcastically. "That doesn't make me any less right about Lucifer.

"He's lying…" Adding quietly, "He's a spy."

"I'm not a _spy_ ," he said, pursing his lips. "I'm a _runaway_."

Tears sprung to Kali's eyes. Scoffing, she looked away.

"I am trying to _save_ you," Gabriel argued, leaning forward in his seat. He lifted his brows. "I know my brother, Kali… He should scare the living crap out of you."

She took a deep breath

Louder now, he exclaimed, "You. _Can't_. Beat. Him!" Turning to the others, he warned simply, "I've skipped ahead. Seen how this story ends."

" _Your_ story," Kali interrupted, licking her lips. "Not ours." Shaking her head, she muttered, "Westerners, I swear. The sheer _arrogance_ … You think you're the _only ones_ on Earth? You _pillage_ and you _butcher_ in your God's name. Oh, but you're not the only religion." She turned her head away, eyes staring warningly down at him, "And He's not the only God. And _now_ you think you can just rip the world apart?"

Sighing, he looked up at her.

"You're wrong." Voice wrought with emotion, she reminded, "There are _billions_ of us and we were here first." Eyes shimmering, she walked toward him. "If anyone gets to end this world…" Leaning down, she cupped his face, staring into his eyes sadly, "It's _me_." Stroking his cheek, she dragged her thumb along his mouth. Sorrowful, her mouth moved as if to say more, struggled, and finally she murmured, "I'm sorry," before she thrust his blade deep into his chest.

Gabriel gasped, his face folding in pain. White light flickered from his chest, his angel essence seeming to drain from him. Head thrown back, it escaped painfully through his eye sockets and screaming mouth, while a tearful Kali watched. Finally, mouth snapping shut, he lay immobile, the light gone from his vessel.

Staring in shock, Sam and Dean struggled for words.

"This is crazy," the desk-clerk muttered.

Staring down at the dead archangel, Gabriel, Kali declared, "They can die." Voice shaking, she added, "We can kill Lucifer."

Running a hand down his face, Dean pinched the ridge of his nose. Jesus _fucking_ Christ.

Eyes darting toward the two Winchesters, Kali's eyes thinned. "From what I'd heard, the both of you were saying _No_ to playing vessels for Michael and Lucifer…" She tilted her chin. "And yet you keep company with their _brother?_ "

"'Least we weren't _sleepin'_ with the enemy, sweetheart," Dean drawled back.

"Dean?" Sam warned. "What are you doing?"

"You _dare_ speak to me that way?" Hands on her hips, she curled a lip. "I just killed an archangel; _you_ are little in comparison."

"I think the elephant said it best…" He muttered, smirking sarcastically. "You kill us, we get zapped right back to life." He shrugged. "What's to keep me holdin' my tongue?"

"The fact that I can tear it out of your mouth," she snarled, leaning down and placing her hands on the table in dark warning.

He scoffed, though inside he felt fear eating at him. What the hell was he _doing?_ It was anger, maybe even a last ditch effort, or, more likely, he was getting defensive like he often did when faced with death or danger.

"You think _you're_ the only bargaining chip I have to play with?" She cocked her head, lifting a thin brow. "We prepared long in advance for your arrival, Winchester. Learned what we could, ever last detail of your pathetic lives…" With a cold, calculating smile, she turned toward the desk clerk. "Bring out his wife."

Dean felt his heart stop in his chest; his body burned ice cold. Fingers wrapped tight around the arms of the chair, he nearly felt them crack beneath his grip.

"Wife?" Sam asked, eyes wide.

He glanced at him; why was it his _brother_ got stuck on that word and he hadn't even _blinked?_ He just _knew_ , without having to question it, that Kali was referring to Chloe.

He waited, eyes darting, as if he expected another cart to be wheeled out and Chloe to be splayed like the next entrée. His gut twisted at the thought and bile burned his throat. Oh hell, there was no way he could handle that. Gods or not, he was going to go ape shit suicidal and try and kill these bastards if they touched one blonde hair on her head.

The doors didn't open though; a cart was never rolled out; in fact, it seemed, _nothing_ happened.

Suspicious, his brows furrowed.

"Mercury?" she demanded.

He swallowed tightly. "I wasn't able to find her."

Eyes narrowed, Kali whirled. "You let a mere _human_ out of your grasp?"

Shrinking into his chair in fear, he stuttered, "Sh-She was in the South W-Wing one second and then…" He lifted his shaking hands. "I-I can find her. Just-Just give me a second to—"

Eyes burning with fire, Kali snarled at him. "Bring me the fated one or you'll serve as her replacement under my torture."

Mercury was gone so quickly, Dean blinked, confused and startled. There and gone, it was as if he'd evaporated into thin air.

When Kali's attention turned back to him, he half-smirked.

"She's sneaky," he drawled lazily. "Doubt he'll find her."

Teeth clenched, her eyes flashed. "Then we'll pluck each and every organ from your body and bring _her_ to _us_ …"

Dean swallowed, but kept a sneer on his mouth for her to see.

And then he felt it, a brush of fingers along the shell of his ear, stroking down his hair and along his neck. His heart stuttered; his eyes turned to search her out. But there was nothing, no one. He almost thought he imagined it until he felt it again; light, airy, but _there_. Definitely there. It was her; it had to be. Nobody else touched him like that and it was something she often did while he was driving. As if she needed to touch him but also knew she shouldn't distract him.

Taking a deep breath, he knew what he had to do. It wasn't going to be easy and in fact, he was fairly sure he'd just lost his mind, but it would have to do. And if it didn't, he could at least take comfort in the knowledge that if he died, he'd come back… And even if he didn't, heaven promised him forever with Chloe, so there was an upside. Plus, even if Kali had him bite it, Chloe was safe. Apparently invisible, and he thought he might owe the now dead Gabriel for that one, safe and alive. And hopefully, she'd stay that way.

Blowing out a shaky breath, he sat forward, pushing himself up out of his chair. "All right, you primitive screwheads, listen up," he announced.

Eyes wide, Sam looked up at him. "Are you out of your mind?"

Licking his lips, he muttered back, "'m out of options." Turning, he circled his chair, continuing in his speech, "Now on any other given day, I'd be doing my damndest to, uh… _kill you_ …" He felt Chloe's fingers wrap around his forearm and squeeze warningly. "You filthy, murdering chumps," he said, ignoring her even as he took comfort in the knowledge that he knew she was there while they didn't. He chuckled throatily, hoping for an unaffected air. "But, uh, _eh…_ " He paused, looking down at the immobile Gabriel. "Desperate times." Backing up, he smirked, "So even though I'd like nothin' better than to slit your throats," he motioned to his own in a cutting manner, "you… _dicks."_ He grinned, turning back toward the table holding the glass bottles of liquor he desperately needed, he rubbed his hands together and took another calming breath. "I'm gonna help you," he announced loudly, unscrewing a cap to a bottle and pouring. "I'm gonna help you ice the devil." Picking up his glass, he turned back around with a shrug, brows lifted high. "And then we can all get back to gankin' each other like normal."

The Gods looked around at each other in question, considering this option.

"You want Lucifer?" Dean asked, shrugging his shoulders an inch. "Well, dude's not in the Yellow Pages."

Sam swallowed, shifting uncomfortably.

"But me an' Sam… we can get him here."

Turning slowly, he stared shocked at his brother.

Kali cocked her head. "How?"

Dean smirked. "First you let those main courses go," he demanded. "Then we talk." Eyes wide, he drew his head back questioningly. "We can either take on the devil together or you lame-ass bitches can eat me." He lifted his glass in cheers.

Sam rolled his eyes upward.

Eyes falling, Dean added, " _Literally_."

He hardly held back a flinch when he felt Chloe slap him upside the head.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXV.**

"Come on, everybody. Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!" Dean shouted, waving the many poor saps that stopped at the same hotel, only to live out a nightmare. Out the door and back toward the cars, toward freedom, they ran, while he held the door open wide and yelled at them to hurry the hell up, all the while worrying the Gods inside might just change their minds.

Letting the door fall closed, he walked down the parking lot a ways, waving at them to get out of there. Just as he was about to turn back and return inside, he heard, "Psst… Dean!" Looking back, he saw the back window of his Impala rolled halfway down and none other than _Gabriel_ sitting in his back seat. He scoffed. "Don't look at me!" he exclaimed in a stage-whisper.

Looking down at the wheels of his car, head slightly bowed, he wondered how the hell he was supposed to _not_ look.

"Act natural," Gabriel told him. And when he sucked at that, added, "Get in!"

Rounding the Impala, Dean jumped in the driver's seat, turning back and throwing his arm over the back of the seat. "Man, there is nothing _natural_ about this at all." His brows furrowed. "I thought you were dead."

"You think I'd give Kali my _real_ sword?" he exclaimed, snorting. "That thing can _kill_ me!"

Dean glanced away, waving his hand wonderingly. "Then what do they have in there?"

"A _fake_ ," he declared proudly. "Made it out of a can of diet Orange Slice."

He stared back, slightly slack-jawed.

"So, uh…" Gabriel drawled, "You haven't happened to _not_ see your soul mate around anywhere, have you?"

His eyes narrowed. "Exactly how and _why_ did you make Chloe invisible?"

He lifted a shoulder. "Back up plan, of course."

" _What?_ " he asked, his face screwed up.

Sighing, he shook his head. "Look, Kali's not stupid and neither are the other Gods in there. I should know; I've been playing in their sandbox for ages now." He pursed his lips. "Lotta sympathy I got for it, too. _Jerks_."

"Yeah, yeah, you were sayin'?" Dean waved him back on subject.

"Right. So, when I ran into your little wifey there, I saw an opportunity and I took it…" He smirked. "Literally. She wasn't too happy to be playing my sidekick but as soon as I told her you and Sammy were taken hostage, she was all game."

Rubbing his brow, he shook his head. "All right, so where is she?"

"She's not with you?" He looked around, brow cocked. "I thought for sure when my vanishing act kicked in she'd stick around you two."

"She was… 'Til we went to get the mooks out of the freezer."

Brows lifting, he tilted his head back. "Ah…" Eyes narrowed, he grinned. "Smart little thing, isn't she?"

Dean growled, "Explain."

"We need our blood, can't _get_ our blood, she's invisible… Put the pieces of the puzzle together, Caveman." He grinned proudly. "I taught that girl well."

He rolled his eyes. "So you sent her into the crazy bitch's room to get our blood? Kali was just sayin' she'd _torture_ Chloe to get what she wants from me and Sam. Are you outta your goddamn mind?"

"Hey, I'm crazy, but it's like a fox, my friend," he argued, frowning. "Kali can't see or feel Chloe… She's as safe as can be." He lifted a shoulder. "So unless you want to offer yourself up instead…? She's our only option."

"Me?"

"I heard you in there," he reminded, "Kali _likes_ you."

Dean looked away, brows furrowed. "You want me to _do_ your murdering ex?"

"You get close, lift the plasma, and we vamoose," he offered happily.

He blinked. "No."

"Hey, I know she's got an attitude problem… but she's much nicer when the claws are away."

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "'m not screwin' around with the nutso goddess, all right?"

Gabriel blew out a breath. "What happened to loyalty, huh? I just got myself shanked for you two idiots!"

"You got ganked 'cause you _lied_ to them about who you were," he argued, gritting his teeth. "And right now, _Chloe_ is in there tryin' to get our blood for us because _you_ decided to drag her along for this screwed up ride!"

"Hey, she was in it because of you already! If I hadn't intervened before Mercury got his quick little paws on her, she'd be sliced and diced for you to see all the gooey inner-workings," he reminded, eyes narrowing. "I offered her the chance to stay in one piece and save your asses at the same time. You should be _thanking_ me."

"I got a better idea," Dean threw back darkly, "Hand over the real blade." He frowned. "Better yet, why don't you sac up and help us take down Lucifer?"

Gabriel stared up at him before glancing away to see if anyone was watching and then moving in close, shoulders hunched. "You can't be serious?"

Dean nodded. "Deadly."

"Since when are you butt-buddies with a bunch of monsters?" he asked sarcastically.

His gaze narrowed.

"That's all they are to you, aren't they?" He tilted his head knowingly.

"All right, you know what? Sam was right. It's nuts, but it's the best idea I've _heard_ , so unless you have a better one…?" He lifted a brow, nodding his head as he waited and received no reply.

Gabriel patted the back of the seat and smiled stiffly. "Well, good luck with that." He cocked his head. "Me? I'm blowin' Jonestown." He waved his hand, saying harshly, "Those lemmings wanna run off a cliff, that's their business."

Brows screwed up, Dean shook his head. "I see right through you, you know that? The smartass shell, the whole I-could-give-a-crap thing, believe me, it takes one to know one!" he growled.

He smirked back. "That so?"

"Yes! And maybe those freaks in there aren't your _blood_ , but they are your _family!_ "

"They just stabbed me in the friggin' heart!" he argued.

"Maybe, but you still give a crap about 'em, don't you?" he said simply.

He sighed, looking away. "Dean…"

"They're gonna die in there without you." He stared at him seriously.

Looking down, he shook his head, raising his eyes slowly before he admitted, "I can't kill my brother."

He sighed, tilting his head. "Can't or won't?"

Staring back, Gabriel couldn't answer.

"That's what I thought." Turning back around, he reached for the door, shoving it open and leaving him in his bitter silence.

…

"So you're going to _summon_ Lucifer?" Kali asked, staring at Sam as she crossed the floor toward him, stopping next to Baldur.

Brows furrowed, he looked between them, shuffling his feet. "Sort of. I just…" He motioned to his chest, "need you to squeegee some stuff from my ribs and he'll come running."

She tilted her head. "Breaking them would be easier."

Eyes wide, Sam drew his head back, struggling for an argument.

The door opened behind him and Dean stepped through, glancing at him before saying, "Show's over." Coming to a stop in front of them, he said, "Sword's a _fake_."

Kali stared up at him in shock.

"And _Gabriel?_ " He smiled bitterly. "He's still kicking."

Sam stared at him, mouth agape.

"I hate to break it to ya, sister, but you've been _tricked_."

…

A hand came down quickly on the service bell, making a sharp, clear _ding!_ that immediately drew Mercury's attention. Turning around with a fixed smile, he raised his brows at the man before him, his grey pallor a dead give away next to the open sores along his forehead.

Tipping his head, Mercury's lips curled in satisfaction.

"Checking in," the man said.

"Lucifer… Thanks for coming."

"Oh, you did right calling me," Lucifer returned, nodding.

Hands pressed together, Mercury glanced away, telling him, "It's just…" He shook his head. "The way the talk was heading in there… It's just… It's… _insane_ ," he said with a stilted laugh.

He grinned darkly, leaning forward to lay his hands on the desk between them. Taking a deep breath, he said, "You know, I never understood you pagans. You're such…" He screwed up his nose. "Petty little things." He leaned back. "Always fighting, always happy to sell out your own kind…" Pressing his lips together, he waved a finger at Mercury. "No wonder you forfeited this planet to us…"

Mercury stared back, lips pursed.

Leaning, he stuck a finger at him pointedly, " _You_ are worse than humans."

His face fell.

"You're _worse_ than demons." He grinned sarcastically. "And yet you claim to be Gods." Smile fading, he turned his head to one side, a dark expression crossing his face before he circled a finger and then twisted his wrist.

With a snap, Mercury's neck was broken and he fell to the floor in a dead heap.

Staring down at him, unremorseful, Lucifer lifted his head, frowning. "Any they call me prideful," he muttered ruefully.

…

Walking up and down hallways, Gabriel whistled, eyes darting. "Here, invisible sidekick… Come out, come out, from wherever you're hiding…"

"I wouldn't call it _hiding_ ," Chloe replied, making him jump as she appeared behind him.

Gabriel, being the only one able to see her, turned around and glared. "Sneaking up on an archangel, really?"

"You must be _pretty_ jumpy if you didn't hear me coming." She smirked. "So, do all your exes try to kill you or was this a special occasion?"

He pursed his lips. "You're hilarious, really. Maybe after this, I'll get you your own show in Vegas."

"You just wanna see me in tassels," she retorted, knowingly.

"Caught," he said, holding his hands up. "Speaking of… I see _you_ weren't. Did you _happen_ to pick up anything of importance while your hubby was freeing a week's worth of meals from the freezer?"

"I _might_ have found a few vials of blood… But then…" She narrowed her eyes at him. "I might not have."

He sighed. "Negotiations? Really?" He blinked. "You know I could send you to an alternate universe, right? No coffee, no internet, no _Dean…_ "

She grinned widely. "But you won't." Lifting a shoulder, she stared up at him. "So? What are you gonna do about Dean and Sam?"

"What _about_ those _hotheads_?" he grumbled, frowning.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "I know you secretly like them, so you can drop the act, Gabriel." Hands on her hips now, she lifted a brow. "Your ex is in there waiting on Dean so they can call in the devil for who- _knows-_ what… So what are _you_ going to do?"

He pursed his lips. "Thank you, Pesky Conscience, but I already _know_ what I have to do."

"Which is?" she needled.

He glared at her. "When'd _you_ become the leader in this partnership?"

She blinked. "When you thought you could sex your way into Kali's good graces. Women aren't _quite_ as easily distracted as men are."

He sighed dramatically. "Shame, too… I could still die today, not once but _twice_ and she _still_ shot me down." He turned his eyes in her direction, wiggling his brows.

She snorted. "Nice try."

He lifted a shoulder. "Eh, it was worth a shot."

"So you've decided to try and play hero…" Crossing her arms, she cocked her head. "Why now?"

"Because your overzealous soul-mate is right…" He rolled his eyes. "For _once_." Sighing, he pursed his lips. "They're my family… As screwed up, homicidal and suspicious as they are. Plus, you know…" He lifted a shoulder. "Human's aren't _so_ bad…"

She grinned slowly. "You kind of _like_ us, don't you?"

He wrinkled his nose, lifting a hand to show his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "Little bit."

"Mmhmm… So? What's your plan of attack?"

"You still got my blade?"

"Securely strapped to my back, _sir_ ," she mocked, grinning.

He twirled his finger to tell her to turn around and when she did, he reached across to unstrap the silver archangel blade from where he'd secured it earlier. Why he trusted it in her care, she couldn't say. But then, he seemed to like and even trust humans more than he did his fellow angels and gods. There was a zap against her back as he separated it from her, a lurch that made her take a step away as if it was a physical _part_ of her. Maybe he didn't so much _trust_ her as he made it so neither she nor anyone else could get it from her but him.

"We good?" she wondered, turning back around.

He stared at her a long moment. "Yeah…" He nodded for her to follow him. "So, you and Dean, huh?"

"Me and Dean," she replied, lifting a brow.

"You think if you two _weren't_ soul mates?" He motioned between them.

She rolled her eyes. "No."

"No?" He feigned insult. "Hey, I'll have you know I have some _great_ qualities…"

She snorted. "When you're not playing tricks and hiding from vengeful gods, _yeah_ , sure you do…"

"Well, that's the best part." He stared at her wonderingly. "I thought you were a woman who enjoyed adventure."

Her eyes widened for emphasis. "I think we have different definitions of adventure."

His brows furrowed. "I left my angel dictionary at home, my bad…"

Chuckling, she shook her head. "Is sarcasm something you picked up here on earth or…?"

"No, definitely something I cultivated over the centuries."

"Good work."

"Thank you."

…

The lights began to flicker in the Grand Ballroom and Baldur looked around worriedly. "What's happening?" he asked.

Down the hallway leading to the room they stood in, Lucifer held a screaming Odin down on the floor, watching as he struggled to stand. Drawing up his leg, he brought his foot down hard and crushed Odin's head, twisting his foot as the old man grunted and finishing him off with a grimace of satisfaction. Behind him, stomping forward, shoulders high and ready for attack, Ganesh sneered at Lucifer. Glancing over his shoulder at him, he merely lifted a hand and had his blood splattered across the wall, adding a little gruesome death to the painting hanging behind him.

As a tickle ran up his spine, he turned, spotting Baron Samedi as he approached from the other side, his arm lifting and a fist flying. Lucifer caught it, held it easily, and watched as the God struggled, grunting. Twisting his arm, he sprayed blood across the far wall and then attacked, tearing him to pieces and leaving him amongst the other bodies littering the floor. Staring down at the short-lived massacre, he merely stepped over the nearest body and continued down the hallway.

Looking to and fro, Sam took a shaky breath. "It's him," he declared to the others.

"How?" Kali wondered.

"Does it matter?" Dean asked, looking around, wishing he could see Chloe and know that she was okay. He hadn't felt her near him since he'd argued with the Gods earlier. And now, knowing that Lucifer had entered the building, he was feeling a dark pit in his stomach and the familiar ache in his chest. "Shazzam us outta here, would ya?" he asked, even as everything inside him revolted against leaving her behind.

"We can't," Baldur replied lowly. He stepped forward as the doors opened and Lucifer stepped inside.

"Of course you can't," he said in greeting. Smirking, he leaned forward, "You didn't say Mother, May I." Glancing past the approaching Baldur, he nodded. "Sam, Dean, good to see you again."

"Baldur," Kali said warningly. "Don't."

He sneered. "You think you own the planet?" he asked. Advancing quickly, he growled, "What gives you the _right?_ "

As he met equal with Lucifer, the devil's hand punctured deep inside his chest cavity and held him in place and said, "No one _gives_ us the right…"

Sam and Dean stared horrified at the bloody handy that stuck out the other side of Baldur.

"We _take_ it." Pulling his arm out sharply, Lucifer shoved Baldur's dead body to the ground carelessly before turning back to the three leftover people in the room.

Staring, Kali dragged in air, anger and wrath forming in her chest. Fire consumed her hands and spiraled up her arms in licking flames. Eyes wide and mottled with rage, she lifted an arm and threw a blast of explosive fire in Lucifer's direction.

Jumping out of the way, Dean and Sam hid behind a table as her fingers spread and flames burst out, covering Lucifer head to toe and consuming the room with its powerful heat. But as quickly as he was caught in her crosshairs, the fire died out around him and he stood unhurt, unscarred, and smirking. Walking toward him, face twisted with anger, she raised an arm, ready to strike him for his indifference to her people. But swiftly, Lucifer uppercut her first, sending her flying across the room.

"You okay?" Sam asked, struggling for air.

"Yeah," Dean grunted back.

"Not really," Gabriel's voice interrupted.

Turning in surprise, they found him kneeling next to them behind the cover of the gold cloth draped table.

He lifted a brow, shrugging. "Better late than never, huh?"

Dean nodded slowly.

Slamming a DVD case against his chest, Gabriel told him, "Guard this with your life," before he jumped up and circled the table.

Crossing the room slowly, Lucifer lifted his leg up, ready to stomp his heavy foot straight down into Kali's heaving chest as she stared up at him in fear. But just before he could, an unseen force threw him across the room and out through the doors until he hit the hallway wall. Struggling to stand, Lucifer stared back in the room, grunting.

"Luci…" Gabriel called out mockingly, "I'm _home_."

Setting his shoulders to right, Lucifer stepped back into the room, brows heavy over his eyes.

Gabriel stepped in his way, holding up his dagger. "Not this time," he told him.

Holding his arms out to his sides, Lucifer waited to see what he'd do.

Backing up, Gabriel held an arm down and helped Kali to her feet, holding her steady as she wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Guys?" he shouted, though his eyes didn't leave his brother.

Staring out from behind the table, the two Winchester brothers stood up in answer.

"Get her outta here," Gabriel asked. He covered them as the three left the room, holding his blade up to keep Lucifer from attacking.

"Over a girl? Gabriel," Lucifer sighed, turning toward him. He held his hands out. "Really? I mean, I knew you were slumming, but…" He inhaled, screwing his face up with disgust. Wiggling his blood soaked fingers, he added, "I hope you didn't catch anything."

Sighing, he half-smiled sadly. "Lucifer… You're my brother and I love you."

Lowering his hands to his sides, he lifted his chin, listening.

"But you are a great big bag of _dicks_ ," he drawled, frowning.

"What did you just say to me?" He pointed at himself, taking a step closer.

Gabriel lifted his blade once more in warning. "Look at yourself," he exclaimed, "Boo hoo… Daddy was mean to me so I'm gonna smash up all his toys," he mocked, cocking a brow and shaking his head.

"Watch your tone," Lucifer warned quietly.

"Play the victim all you want, but you and me…" He lifted a brow, cocking his head knowingly. "We know the truth." He waved his blade for emphasis. He scoffed, saying, "Dad loved you best. More than Michael, more than me."

He stared back, eyes dark, showing no expression.

"Then he brought the new baby home and…" His forehead wrinkled, "you couldn't handle it." He waved his arms about. "So _all this_ is just a great big temper tantrum." He pursed his lips, eyes narrowing.

And Lucifer grinned back.

Face losing all humor, Gabriel lifted the blade meaningfully. "Time to grow up."

…

Rushing out the front doors, Sam, Dean and Kali walked toward the Impala.

"I'm not getting in that thing," she declared.

"Just get in the car, Princess," Dean ordered, looking back over his shoulder.

As they each climbed in the front, he started the ignition but didn't pull out.

"Dean?" Sam asked.

"I can't leave her here," he sighed, staring back at the building.

Drawing a hand down his face, he shook his head. "I-I forgot. If they don't have her and she wasn't in the freezer, then-?"

"Gabriel found her," he explained. "She's, I dunno, invisible or something." Turning, he stared at Kali. "Can you get her?"

"No." She firmed her lips. "Just like I couldn't take all of us out of there, I can't take anybody else. If she's still inside, I have no power over her…"

Licking his lips, Dean cursed. "Well, we're not leaving without her." Jaw ticking, he reached for his door handle, only to find it locked. Suddenly, the car was backing up, driving away without his say-so. Swerving out of the parking lot, it darted onto the highway. "What the…" Growling, he shook his head. "Gabriel, you sonuvabitch!"

…

Lucifer held up a hand in a soothing manner. "Gabriel, if you're doing this for Michael—"

"Screw him!" he interrupted. "If he were standing here, I'd shiv his ass, too."

Scoffing, he turned his head away. Pointing his finger, he shook his head. "You disloyal—"

"Oh, I'm loyal," he denied, eyes wide. "To _them_." He nodded.

"Who?" Lucifer waved his arm. "These… _so-called_ Gods?"

"To _people_ , Lucifer…"

He bowed his head. "Hm."

" _People!_ "

"So you're willing to _die…_ for a pile of cockroaches." He screwed his face up, cocking his head. "Why?"

"Because dad was _right!_ " He stared back proudly. "They _are_ better than us!"

He grit his teeth angrily. "They are _broken, flawed, abortions!_ " he spat, nodding his head as he listed each.

"Damn right, they're flawed." Taking a breath, he sighed. "But a lot of 'em try. To do better… To _forgive_." He cocked his head, adding, "And you should see the Spearmint Rhino!" Brows heavy, he stared back at his brother darkly. "I've been riding the pine a _long_ time, but I'm in the game now." His eyes widened for emphasis. "And I'm not on _your_ side _or_ Michaels." He stared, a smile quirking the corners of his lips. "I'm on _theirs_." He cocked a brow in a what-can-you-do manner.

"Brother, don't make me do this," Lucifer whispered, shaking his head.

"No one makes us do anything…"

Swallowing, he tipped his head, imploring, "I know you think you're doing the right thing, Gabriel… But I know where your _heart_ truly lies."

Behind him, a second Gabriel approached, weapon in hand.

Seemingly unknowing, Lucifer raised his brows as if to ask his brother one last time if he truly wanted this.

And then, just as the second Gabriel struck, Lucifer turned and caught his arm before the blade could penetrate his back. Twisting it, he sent it deep inside Gabriel's stomach. "Here," he murmured knowingly.

Fizzling away, the first Gabriel but a mirage, the second struggled for breath, for life, dying in his brother's arms, on his own blade.

"Amateur hocus pocus," Lucifer said, gripping Gabriel's head and staring down into his agony-filled face. "Don't forget… You learned all your tricks from _me_ … little brother."

Gabriel gripped his shoulder in pain and Lucifer twisted the blade hard to the right, awash in a white glow as his brother's true heavenly essence left his body. Letting the corpse fall to the ground, he blinked his eyes rapidly, drawing in a few shaky breaths, truly wishing he hadn't had to kill him. Swallowing, his eyes stayed on Gabriel's prone body, his black shadow wings painted across the floor.

Raising his head, his eyes thinned, piercing the emptiness of the room. "Did you enjoy the show?" he asked, before waving a hand.

Chloe appeared, flesh and blood, kneeling next to Gabriel's head, her fingers at his throat as if she searched for a pulse.

Raising her chin, she stared up at him. "Obviously not as much as you did," she said, peering at his bloody hands.

He smiled, though it was nowhere near as dark or sadistic as it might've been earlier. "You must be the soul mate I've been hearing so _little_ about…"

Dusting her knees, she stood up, hands fisting at her sides. "What can I say? A low-profile suits me."

He tipped his head to one side, lifting a brow. "I can feel your fear, little girl. Even _smell_ it and yet you pretend you aren't _shaking_ from the inside out." He grinned slowly. "A trait needed when on board with the Winchesters, I suppose."

"Newsflash, _Satan_ , not every human out there is as inconsequential as you think," she bit out.

He walked toward her, a swagger in his steps. Though she didn't step away or recoil in fear, he looked pleased. Reaching for her, he cupped her chin in his palm, blood smearing against her skin. "I could snap your pretty little neck right now… _Bathe_ in your warm blood and nobody, _nobody_ that truly matters, will bat an eye. Do you know _why?_ " He leaned in close whispering darkly, "Because you are one of many, like insects you procreate and expand, while _I_ am of the few truly important beings… You are with the weak while I stand with the strong."

"If the strong kill their brothers in cold blood all because their _daddy_ wasn't paying them enough attention, then keep your _few_ , I'll take my many any day," she spat.

Hand squeezing, he grit his teeth. "You think because some stupid little cherub threw you in Dean's path that you'll somehow save that jaded piece of garbage enough to stop _me?_ " His eyes narrowed. "I am going to _destroy_ every person you ever knew, ever met _,_ ever _loved_. And when I kill you, it'll be in front of _him_ so he can fall apart like he was always meant to, like the pathetic and weak little _human_ he is. You are _not_ the deciding factor in this war, Chloe Sullivan… You're just one small player on a stage of bigger, badder ones…" Dragging a thumb a long her cheek, his fingers gripped the back of her neck and squeezed. "I _dare_ you to prove me wrong."

When he released her, she stumbled and with just a snap of his fingers and a dark, stomach-twisting smirk, he sent her away.

She gasped as she found herself swiftly appearing in the backseat of the Impala, her eyes darting to and fro.

"What the—" Dean swerved the car off onto the shoulder sideways, the tires squealing. Throwing his door open, he climbed out in a rush, yanked the backdoor open and dragged her out. "Where the hell've you been?" he half-yelled, embracing her tight to his chest.

Still shaking from her run-in with Lucifer, Chloe wrapped her arms close around him, wanting to burrow deep inside and feel the safety she often found in him.

"Hey, hey, hey…" Rubbing her back, he squeezed her shoulder, drawing back enough to see her face. "Is that _blood?_ " He wiped at it, eyes searching her up and down. Voice deep and gravelly, he asked, "What happened?"

 _I am going to destroy ever person you ever knew, ever met, ever_ loved.

She shook her head, instead gripping him closer and sighed, pressing her face into his chest. "Gabriel's dead," she whispered, swallowing tightly. "He's dead."

Wrapping his arms around her once more, he rested his chin on her head and closed his eyes.

One archangel dead, two still out there vying for war…

Things just weren't looking up.

…

An hour later, with the light of morning creeping all around, Chloe, Dean and Sam stood just outside of the Impala, her laptop set up to view the DVD Gabriel had left with Dean. During the drive, she'd let them know how he had died, which explained why seconds before she appeared they were able to gain control over the car once more, and packed with the knowledge, Kali had left them to their devices, looking bitter and angry but saying nothing. Chloe decided not to tell them what Lucifer had said, partly because it wasn't going to help them but also because she didn't want to add more worry to either Winchester's plate. She would take the scare he gave her and she would let it fuel her own desire to fight, she decided.

Chewing her lip, Chloe watched as the screen bled red with white writing assuring that all of the _performers_ were of legal age. She rolled her eyes. As Casa Erotica 13 appeared, she nearly walked away, assuming it was a trick by Gabriel. Glancing at the boys furrowed brows, she stuck through it though. If it didn't get better, she was going to have to scrub her laptop of its porn cooties.

Cheesy music played in the background and she couldn't help but snort. The view followed a pair of sleek legs, feet encased in too-high black heels, up to a barely covered butt, the curve of the woman's back, slowly taking in each inch of her body. "Dear Diary… Being a high-powered business president is _so fun_ …" Chloe thought she might start snapping gum between her teeth any second. "But _sooo_ exhausting. Sometimes I just need to relax." A bottle-blonde came into view, lying atop her bed in her underwear, flipping through a magazine. "I need… _Casa Erotica_."

A knock could be heard at the door and then an accented voice called out, "Room service."

The _obviously_ incredible actress grinned, calling out, "Come in!"

"Gabriel wanted you to guard _this_ with your life?" Sam asked, frowning.

"It's obviously a classic," Chloe sighed.

Looking down at the case, he shrugged. "Maybe he's a fan. It _is_ —"

Chloe cocked a brow. "Oh, no, please, do continue."

Pursing his lips, he looked back to the screen.

On her laptop, the screen showed a second pair of red and silver spike heels with a pink boa wrapped around them, sitting atop a mantle. The door opened, a gold 69 shining behind a mustached Gabriel who stepped in, platter in hand, and drawled in a horribly imitated seductive voice, "I've got the _kielbasa_ you ordered…"

"Oooh," the girl cooed, "Polish?"

"Hungarian," he said before tossing the platter away and crossing the room swiftly.

Dean glanced at Sam and then down at Chloe, who looked bored.

Grabbing the girl, Gabriel drew her close and began kissing her mouth hungrily, petting her backside as she oohed and ahhed for him.

"There goes breakfast," Chloe muttered.

As the woman giggled and Gabriel groaned, "So nice, oooh, so nice…" Sam muttered, "What the hell's goin' on?"

Drawing away from his dopey blonde, Gabriel smacked his lips. "Sam… Chloe… Dean…" He tipped his head. "You're probably wondering what the hell is going on…" Reaching for the corner of his fake mustache, he pulled it off. "Well… If you're watching this…" He stared at them seriously, "I'm dead." Hardly wasting a breath, he added, "Oh, _please_ , stop sobbing… It's embarrassing for all of us."

Dean and Sam glanced at each other, frowning.

Now sitting at the edge of the bed, arms on his knees, Gabriel sighed. "Without me, you got _zero_ shot of killing Lucifer." He lifted one side of his mouth in a what-can-you-do manner, shrugging. "Sorry." His face fell once more. " _But…_ You can trap him." He leaned forward with emphasis. "The cage you sprung Lucifer from, it's still down there. And maybe, _just_ maybe, you can shove his ass back in." He cocked a brow. "Not that it'll be easy…" He stuck out his chin. "You gotta get the cage _open_ , trick my bro back into it, and, uh, oh yeah, avoid Michael and the God Squad. But hey…" He shrugged, smirking, "Details, right?" Glancing momentarily back at his bedmate, camped out with her magazine once more, he turned back and said, "Here's the big secret, that Lucifer himself doesn't even know…" He cocked a brow. "But the key to the cage…" He twirled his finger across the screen. "It's out there… Actually, it's _keys_ … Plural." He lifted up his hand, waving the same number of fingers as he said, "Four keys. Well…" He screwed his face. "Four _rings_ … from the Horsemen." He smirked. "You get 'em all, you got the cage." Inhaling quickly, he leaned back. "Can't say I'm betting on you boys, but, uh… _Hey!_ " He lifted his shoulders. "I've been wrong before."

Dean sighed while Sam nodded his head.

"And Dean… a couple things." He nodded his chin forward. "You got a good woman… A little snarky." He wrinkled his nose, flapping his hand in imitation of a mouth. "But… You know what's good for ya, you won't let that one get away." He lifted a brow. "I've done it once myself and regretted it…" He sighed. "And lastly…You were right." As the blonde temptress crawled forward to growl in his ear, he continued on, "I was afraid to stand up to my brother. But not anymore." Standing from the bed, he told them, "So this is me… standing up." The woman behind him shed her bra, covered only my Gabriel's body. "And _this_ is me…" He tossed a scrap of fabric away and lifted his brows, " _lying down._ " Turning, he buried his mouth against the woman's neck and growled playfully before pushing her back on the bed and hopping on top of her.

Moaning and zippers being drawn commenced.

" _Oh_ …" Sam said, disgust lacing his voice.

Eyes wide, Dean's head drew back.

"Oh, man." Reaching over, Sam slapped the laptop closed.

Chloe frowned. "Next time… we use Sam's computer."

Dean pursed his lips, looking over at his brother. "Horsemen, huh?"

Brows furrowed, he nodded.

"Well, we've got War's," he said. "We nicked Famine's… That's two rings down. Collect all four." He lifted his brow with interest. "All we need is Pestilence and Death."

"Oh, is that all?" Sam muttered, rolling his eyes.

He firmed his lips. "It's a plan."

Sam scoffed, but then turned his head, considering it.

"Our plan is to hunt down the remaining Horsemen, take their rings, and send Lucifer back to his cage?" Chloe asked, looking between them. "If I'm not completely wrong here, Pestilence is _disease_ , how are you supposed to even get _close_ to him? And _Death_ …? Doesn't that speak for itself?"

Dean sighed. "It's our only option right now…"

Chloe shook her head, but she couldn't argue. While she had an extensive background in _weird_ , this wasn't the same boat. Hell, it wasn't even the same _ocean_. What they were thinking sounded like suicide to her, but then… She'd said it before. Whether it meant her death or not, she was along for the ride. So whatever was coming… She'd meet it headlong at their sides.

"Great…" Reaching for the handle to the backseat, she dragged open her door. "Bring it."

With a grin, Dean nodded at her proudly before reaching across to open his own door.

Grabbing up the laptop, Sam half-smiled, shaking his head and crossing in front of the Impala to take his seat up front.

Tires kicking up dirt and rocks behind them, they sped back onto the road, toward the only chance they had.

Kicking Horsemen ass.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXVI**.

Part of Dean's mind couldn't quite accept the laughter than was ringing throughout the Impala. Not five hours ago, they'd agreed to take out the last two Horsemen, and now two out of three of them were playing Go Fish. Sitting in the back, legs crossed Indian-style, Chloe held up her five cards, a stack next to her that had fallen over thanks to the not-so-smooth ride.

Turned sideways in the passenger seat, Sam held his cards up, eyeing her with a smile on his face. "Any fours?"

She shook her head. "Go fish."

He sighed. His pile was small in comparison and there was little chance he was going to win.

Chloe grinned happily, glanced past Sam to Dean and caught the two fingers he held up off the steering wheel.

"Any twos?" she asked, lifting her brows.

Scoffing, Sam tossed the card back.

"Any…" She looked to him again and when he flashed a five and then a two, she subtly shook her head. When he tried flashing two fives, she gave a short nod. "Tens?"

Eyes narrowed, Sam looked from her to Dean, who was trying not to grin. "You jerks! You're cheating!"

Laughing, Chloe threw her head back. "Took you long enough."

He pointed at her with mock menacing. "Not cool! I demand a re-match."

"Fine," she agreed, happily. "I'll _still_ beat you!"

"We'll see." He glared at Dean, who snorted, lifting a shoulder. "What happened to loyalty?"

"You're just mad 'cause a _girl_ beat you."

"She didn't _beat_ me; she _cheated!_ " he exclaimed, chuckling.

"Same difference." He grinned proudly. "She was smart enough to cheat!"

Rolling his eyes, Sam held his hand out. " _I'll_ deal this time," he said with dramatic suspicion.

Chloe gave over her cards and then sat back for the next game.

Dean's eyes wandered from the road to the mirror, watching as her face lit up with warmth and laughter. It wasn't so long ago Sammy was wondering whether or not they should trust her, if she was a demon in disguise or some kind of trick. And now they were playing _card games_ and acting like old friends. His chest lurched; she fit with them, in a way he never imagined any woman or tag-along ever could. It'd always just been him and Sammy or him and his dad. Outsiders, they never really got it; even those they saved and were enlightened to _the other world_ living behind theirs, they didn't understand. They appreciated the help, but most of them wished they'd never known. Chloe grew up in her own kind of weird and it was anything but easy for her, but it'd shaped her, molded her into the kind of person that could come along in this effed up trip of theirs and not lose her mind over the craziness.

It took a real damn special person to do that, he figured.

The last few days were bugging him; the things people said, the encouragement he was getting from a few different sides. Where once Chloe was the person they all looked at and wondered the end-game of, now the majority were telling him he was lucky, that he should milk it for all its got. And what did that even _mean?_ They had an apocalypse on their hands and he was supposed to take a time out to enjoy having a soul mate? What kind of sense did that make? Thing was, he _wanted_ to. He wanted the world to just pause for a minute, for the screwed up mess they were in to take a vacation so he could sit back and take the time to actually be _happy_ for once. He wanted more time, more days like this. Where she and Sam could play a card game and the end of the world wasn't at the back of their minds or bringing them all down. He wasn't asking for normal, he wasn't asking for _much_ even. Just a moment, just a little break, just… Just Chloe. Was that too much?

…

A few hours later, they pulled into a diner for some grub. Half-eaten plates of both the healthy and unhealthy sat atop the table, the din of other patrons loud and full of forks scraping and chatter. Chloe stood to go to the bathroom, squeezing Dean's shoulder as she moved past him, pausing to ask a waitress for directions. He watched her go, his brow heavy over his eyes before he glanced back at Sam, who was staring at him, and then down at his food. "What?" he asked.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing," he replied, pushing his plate out of the way to lean his folded forearms on the tabletop. "What's up?"

"Nothin'," he sighed, shaking his head.

Sam merely lifted a brow.

Licking his lips, he shook his head. "You know back at the hotel, when Kali called Chloe my, uh… my _wife?_ "

His eyes widened slightly. "Yeah. Kinda hard to miss."

Jaw twitching, he glanced away and then back. "I dunno, it just… It stuck with me."

He cocked his head. "Stuck with you how?"

Uncomfortably, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Like it _fit_. Like… Like I didn't even question it." He blew out a heavy breath. "I just thought of Chloe."

"Yeah, and…?" He lifted a shoulder. "So soul mates to them automatically mean you guys are married. They're Gods, they've been around for centuries, maybe that's how it works in their culture."

Screwing up his face, he shook his head. "No, you're not gettin' me… You keep telling me to finish that stupid sentence. She's not just my girlfriend, and yeah, she's my soul mate, but…" He cleared his throat. "The word I keep avoiding, the one that really fits there… It's _wife_." He turned his eyes up.

"Dean…" He leaned forward, glancing away to make sure Chloe wasn't coming back yet. "It's been like three weeks… You really think you want to _marry_ her?"

Sitting back, he closed his eyes, dragging a hand down his face before he looked back at his brother seriously. "I know we could all bite it any day and I'm sick and tired of giving up the little good I got in my life."

"She's not going anywhere though… Hell, she stuck around when you turned into a serious dick and never once did she try and walk out on us…" He shook his head. "Marrying her isn't going to keep her around; it won't save her life, Dean."

"No, and I know that…" He lifted his brows for emphasis when Sam stared, unconvinced. "I _know_ , all right? I just… Hell, I don't know how to explain this to you…" He pursed his lips. "You told me yourself that I should enjoy ever damn second I got left with her… That fate or whatever decided there wasn't anybody else out there that's gonna love her like I do… Well…" He shrugged his shoulders, face set in determination. "Why the hell am I avoiding the obvious then, huh? She's not going anywhere; _I'm_ sure as hell not goin' anywhere… So I make it official."

Sam stared at him. "I think you're crazy, but…" He shook his head. "I shotty Best Man."

He snorted. "You don't even know if she'll say yes."

He rolled his eyes. "She's dedicated… To you and this cause and all this screwed up crap we've got going on…" He nodded, knowingly. "She'll say yes."

"Who'll say yes?" Chloe's voice interrupted as she slid in between Dean's chair and that of the man at the table behind them. Dragging her fingers down the back of Dean's neck absently, she retook her seat. Looking between them, she lifted a fry from his plate to her mouth and then caught the looks between them. "What'd I miss?" she wondered, frowning.

"Nothing…" Dean cleared his throat, turning toward her. "You ready to hit the road?"

"Mmhmm." She nodded, turning to lift her laptop bag off the back of her chair. "If you think I'm that easily distracted though, you're wrong." She narrowed her eyes between them. "I'll find out whatever it is you two are hiding."

"Good to know." Standing, Dean dropped a few bills down on the table, pushed his chair in and then took Chloe's hand. "Feel encouraged to interrogate me later. My weaknesses are snarky blondes and pie… Preferably both at the same time."

She snorted. "Duly noted."

Shaking his head, Sam followed them back out to the car. Wondering how long it'd be before that 'snarky blonde' was his sister-in-law.

…

Chloe fell asleep some five hours before they got back to Bobby's; she didn't look as peaceful as she did when he had her in his arms, but at least she was getting some shut eye. Sam too had his head lolled back against the seat, his too long legs stuff uncomfortably beneath the dash. When Dean pulled into Singer Salvage, his eyes were feeling grainy and sleep wasn't calling, it was damn well _shouting_ at him. He pulled to a stop just a few feet from the front stairs, shook his brother awake and waved at him to get inside. With a yawn, he jumped out, stretched his arms high above his head and walked up to the house with his eyes half-closed, nearly face-planting after a trip on the third step.

Snorting, Dean rolled his eyes, and then opened the back door to the Impala, catching Chloe's head before she crashed from her uncomfortable position leaned against the armrest. Dragging her out carefully, he hauled her light body up into his arms, kicked his door shut and climbed the porch stairs, maneuvered the screen door open and then sighed as he was met with the stairs leading to the second floor. She was light; she wasn't a _feather_. Her face had relaxed since he picked her up, though, and he thought maybe her nightmare faded a little too. He half-smiled; hell, Sam was right. He seriously had it bad.

Laying her down in the bed they'd shared before the showdown at Elysian Fields, he swept the blanket over her and then left back downstairs. He was tired, but he had to catch Bobby up and he needed to have a talk with him anyway. Sam was already passed out in another room and ever the protective brother, he checked just to be sure. Then he took the stairs back down to the main floor and searched Bobby out. Like usual, he was camped at his desk, every religious book ever made at his disposal. Taking off his reading glasses, he nodded up at Dean in greeting.

"So? What happened this time?" he sighed.

Snorting under his breath, Dean took a seat near the desk and sat back, shoulders slumping. "Pagan Gods, and _yeah_ , I mean _multiples_ , Lucifer and a dead archangel on our hands…" Squeezing the bridge of his nose, he set in for a long story, and when finally a slack-jawed and head-shaking Bobby was filled in, he ran a hand down his face. "Hell, Bobby, when'd our lives get this screwed up?"

"Puh," he scoffed. "For you, it was probably four years old."

"It wasn't all bad…" He half-frowned. "I still have some good memories."

"You remember John your own way, Dean. Me and your dad had a fallin' out for a _reason_ … I didn't always agree on how he was raisin' you boys and he didn't think it was any of my business." He lifted his shoulder. "Maybe he was right. But I been stickin' my nose in other people's business for too long not to do it for those I cared about."

Dean smiled slightly. "You were always good to us, Bobby."

"Yeah, well… When you weren't climbing scrap piles and callin' em your personal castles, you boys weren't too bad either."

He snorted, shaking his head to himself. "You ever wonder… What you'd be like now if none of this ever happened? If all this crazy demon stuff just didn't interrupt your life?"

His eyes fell thoughtfully. "I imagine I'd have the good life with Karen… Still be here, in this old house, workin' my salvage yard, but…" He sighed. "Maybe I'd be happier... And maybe I'd always think I was missin' somethin'. Whether it was the life or you boys or… Or just knowin' that I was makin' a difference out there." Brows furrowed, he shook his head. "Hell, I dunno. Why're you askin'?"

Licking his lips, he sat quietly, thinking to himself a moment. "I was just… I was fighting for my life against a tableful of cannibalistic Gods, wondering if _maybe_ they might be able to gank _Lucifer_ while my invisible _soul mate_ was running around trying to filch vials of my and Sammy's blood and I thought…" He scoffed, turning his eyes upward. "What happened to the days when it was just me and some faceless evil SOB that I hunted, killed, and moved on from? A one-shot deal and it's over. Dust my hands of the problem and move the hell on…" He swallowed, shaking his head. "When'd it all get so damn complicated?"

Sighing, Bobby frowned at him. "There's no point in sittin' here cryin' over spilt milk, Dean… It's happened, it'll happen again." He stared at him. "I thought you got your faith back."

"I did. I _do_." He clenched his teeth. "There's just some days where I think… If I could wake up and just…" He looked at him, honest and stark emotion in his face. "If it was just me and Chloe an-and Sammy was off at _Law_ school or already playin' up the monkey suit in some courthouse somewhere… I could live with that, y'know? I could…" He blew out a breath. "I mean, yeah, hell, it'd probably be boring and maybe I'd miss this sometimes, but… I could handle a little boring these days."

Bobby's brows furrowed thoughtfully. "So let's say we beat Lucifer… Let's say he's back in his cage and you got your life back, to do with how you please… What are you gonna do _then?_ Huh? You hang up your colt and just…" He shook his head wonderingly, "walk away?"

"I dunno…" He snorted to himself. "Y'know, I told Chloe that maybe when the world stopped ending, I'd quit bein' so sacrificial…" He half-grinned. "She said she doubted it… And she's probably right."

Pursing his lips, he asked, "And what is you think _she'll_ do when this is all over?"

Brows narrowed, he looked up.

"Well, you've _talked_ about it, haven't you? About where you two are goin' after all this?"

Shifting in his seat, he firmed his lips.

Rolling his eyes, Bobby sat forward in his seat, leaning his forearms across his desk. "Listen… Maybe I wasn't her biggest fan in the beginning, but that woman's pretty much paid her dues. So if you wanna run off for that apple-pie life with her, nobody's _stoppin'_ you…" He stared at him searchingly. "I just want you to be sure it's what you want."

Dragging a hand down his face, he lifted a shoulder. "I dunno if I'm cut for that life, Bobby… But I know she is."

"Dean… She's cut for any life that comes at her. It's why you and her work. She'll take the hits as they come, get back up, dust herself off and continue on…" He grinned. "She's tougher than you think."

"I know she's tough… But tough isn't gonna keep her alive."

"So what are you gonna do? Huh? You gonna set up some perfect little life somewhere, keep her away from everything bad out there and play the suburban husband?"

Pursing his lips, he narrowed his eyes. "No."

"Then _what_ , Dean? What are you tryin' to say?" he asked, tossing his hands up.

Throwing his head back, his jaw ticked. "I'm sayin' I can't _lose_ her… Not that it'll hurt o-or it'll be hard, but that I _can't_ …" He stared at him, eyes dark. "For the first time in my life I have someone who's just mine, who's just… Who fits and who's so right for me i-it's _crazy_ …" He lifted his palms up. "And I look at her and I think… I'm gonna get her _killed._ "

Bobby stared at him a long moment before nodding slowly. "You know… When I met Karen, I thought… She's it." He snorted to himself, half-smiling. "I thought… This woman is so damn perfect, she's gonna take one look at me and run the other way. But damn it… I'll chase her down, because I was willin' to do just about _anything_ to get that beautiful, lovin' woman to look at me twice." Sitting back, he smiled sadly to himself. "I loved my wife, Dean. And I lost her, I _killed_ her. So yeah, hell… I know what that feels like. I know that it grinds on ya, the idea that lovin' 'em isn't gonna save 'em. But I also know that I wouldn't be _half_ the man I am today if it wasn't for Karen…" He set his chin. "I know that it hurt like hell. It _still_ hurts. But the years I had with her, as few and as short as they seem now…" He waved his hands around. "They were worth it. All this crap, it's all worth it…"

Dean nodded to himself before asking, "Would you have married her still…? If you'd known that she was gonna die? That one day you'd have to _kill_ her?" He lifted his eyes slowly, staring at Bobby seriously, expecting an honest answer.

"As selfish and stupid as it is… _Yes_. Hell, yes," he told him sternly. "'Cause as much as I loved her, she damn well loved me too… And even knowing that I couldn't save her, knowing all the pain she went through… When she came back, she didn't hold a grudge. She came back, she came _home_." His chin shook with emotion. "She came back to me, Dean. Because I was _it_ for her, too… Because when you love like that, it's worth all the bullshit, all the bad…"

Swallowing tightly, he nodded slowly. "Feels wrong… Wanting her, _needing_ her, when I know… I _know_ …" He screwed up his face angrily, "They'd kill her in a heartbeat if they knew she mattered to me."

"We don't live our lives dependin' on what others are gonna do, Dean… We live 'em as best as we can and keep those we love as safe as we can. But there's no point in you hidin' from this, from _her_ , if it means losin' out on every good thing you got left."

"Yeah… Yeah, you're right." Leaning forward, shoulders hunched, he leaned his arms on his knees and smiled to himself, laughing under his breath. "There a Justice of the Peace around here?" he wondered.

Half-smiling, Bobby shook his head. "I can get one."

"She's still gotta say yes…" He scoffed. "Hell, I don't even have a ring." Glancing at him, he frowned. "You think I'm jumpin' the gun?"

"I think we could die tomorrow… and if Karen walked in the door right now I'd propose to her all over again."

Mouth curling slightly, he nodded. "I love her," he said in a gruff voice.

"I know."

He turned to him. "You ever think this day would come?"

He snorted. "Not 'til I met _her_."

Dean grinned widely.

"'Bout that ring…" Reaching across his desk, he dragged out a door and produced an old, faded box. "I gave this to Karen a long time ago… And when she died, I didn't let it outta my sight." Rolling it in his hand, he laid it down on the desk and pushed it across. "It ain't anythin' huge, no Hope diamond, but…"

"Bobby, I…" He shook his head hurriedly. "I can't take that, it's—"

"It's mine to give," he argued, eyes wide and abrupt. "I got no son of my own to pass it on to… But I got you and Sammy and you're the one sittin' here in front of me, ready to marry his damn _soul mate_ , so…" He half-smiled. "'Sides… Karen liked you two. Said she saw me and her in you crazy idjits."

He stared at the box, still uncertain, but when Bobby gave it one last push, he nodded. Reaching across, he picked it up, his fingers tightening around it. "You're sure?"

"Are you?" he asked, brow cocked.

Eyes falling to the box, he nodded. "Yeah."

"Then so am I."

He laughed under his breath, giving an appreciative nod in his direction.

"You should get some sleep…" He cocked his head knowingly. "Tomorrow's gonna be a big day."

Standing, he knocked the ring box against the edge of the desk in one last sign of thanks before he stepped back. "Night," he called behind him.

"G'night," Bobby returned.

Climbing the stairs, Dean tucked the box in his jeans pocket for safekeeping. Walking into the room where Chloe was still fast asleep, he closed the door behind him quietly before crossing to the bed and shedding the majority of his clothes. She didn't wake as he climbed into bed next to her, though she did wiggle back until she was pressed close to his chest. With a light sigh, she relaxed, as if even in her sleep she recognized him. Arm wrapped around her waist, he laid his head down on the pillow and smiled.

Maybe it was crazy. Maybe it was too early or the worst timing possible, but… It felt right. _She_ felt right.

And hell, when was his life ever ordinary, anyway? This was just one of many decisions he'd made that could blow up in his face… Or it could be the best thing he'd ever done.

He was really rooting for the second.

…

Chloe woke up early. Untangling herself from Dean was quite a feat; he had a habit of wrapping himself around her in his own kind of bear hug, as if he expected something to attack in the middle of the night and was trying to shield her. It was sweet, in its own weird kind of way. Walking silently downstairs while the sun peeked in through the windows, she found Bobby wide awake and hard at work, as usual.

Laptop on the table, she was pacing in front of it, chewing her lip as she struggled through her options. It felt like an abnormal and completely _unbelievable_ dream; all that had happened at Elysian Fields. The Gods, Gabriel, _Lucifer…_ She woke up thinking she must've dreamt it all, but then Dean was there, holding her tight, and those words… they echoed in her ears.

 _I am going to destroy ever person you ever knew, ever met, ever_ loved.

She couldn't convince herself he meant _just_ through the apocalypse; it felt more _personal_ than that. But then, maybe she was taking it too much to heart. Why would Satan go out of his way to hurt _her?_ After all, she was just one player on a stage of bigger, badder ones, just like he said. Still, she felt like she had to warn people, as if she had to send out the Bat-signal to Lois. But what was she supposed to _say_?

 _Hey Lo, sorry but I think I may have royally irked the devil… Be on the look-out for a mid-thirties, decomposing man_...? Somehow, she didn't think that was going to work.

And Clark? Despite their rocky friendship of late, ever since Jimmy's death and Clark's decision to embrace his Kryptonian heritage, talking to him at _all_ seemed hard. How was she supposed to tell him about all of this? About _any_ of it, really? Even if he did crack that stoic face of his, he'd be suspicious of _everyone_. Meaning he'd encourage her to get away from Dean and Sam and try and hide her somewhere. Was that what she wanted? No. But he did always seem to think he knew best. Unfortunately, in this instance he wasn't going to be much help. Alien or not, Lucifer had a lot more power than she thought Clark possessed. He was wiping out Gods left right and center, not to mention his own archangel brother. What was an alien from Krypton to him?

All she knew for sure was that Lucifer knew _of_ her and apparently didn't like her part in this big, apocalyptic story. And while she wasn't willing to leave it, she couldn't ignore his warning.

Finally, she sat down at her laptop, dragged it over and typed out an email to both Oliver and Lois. They had to know that them and the team could be in danger, even if they had no idea where, when or who it might be coming from. So long as they had their eyes sharp and alert, she could only hope they stayed safe. It was all she could do.

With her emails typed and a hello and _please, be safe, cautious and suspicious_ to her dad, as she really couldn't go into detail, she finally decided to distract herself. Breakfast. Bobby was busy in his office and she was hungry. No doubt the scent of bacon wafting up the stairs would wake the boys. And maybe some tunes and cooking would get her mind off the turmoil of late. If she was lucky, she was reading into it too much and Lucifer was just trying to scare her. But he underestimated her, like a lot of the humans he had no respect for. She was a fighter and whatever he sent her way, she would handle. She may be with the few, but those same were all heroes ready to fight whatever evil came knocking.

Grinning over her new outlook, she turned up the radio and got to work.

…

When Dean woke up, the bed was empty save for himself. Frowning, he looked around, eyes screwed up with lingering sleep. How it was she managed to get out of bed without him noticing, he had no idea. He usually woke at the first movement. Sitting up, he ran a hand through his mussed hair and grabbed his jeans with his other hand. As he dragged them on, he felt the weight of the ring box in his pocket and paused. Jesus Christ, he was gonna propose. Sitting back on the bed, he covered his face with his hands. He should be freaking out. He should be ready to make a run for it or second guessing this whole thing. Instead, he was _calm_. Like eerily, completely, at ease.

He chuckled to himself lightly. A month ago, he hadn't seen any future at all. He saw the world going up in flames, drenched in blood, and it was all on his hands. Now… Now he was hoping they could stop that from happening, that there might be some semblance of regular life for him to have. With _her_. He couldn't say he was sure it would happen; he couldn't say he _knew_ they'd make it through this. But if he was going to die, he'd die knowing he _tried_ , that he _hoped_.

Grabbing up a shirt, he tugged it on and left the room, barefoot and wanting a shower. Needing to know where she was first, he made his way downstairs, checking the office to find Bobby hard at work, Sam just as busy sitting adjacent to him. Leaving them to it, he inhaled deeply, catching the scent of homemade breakfast and with a half-smile, made his way to the kitchen.

She was at the stove, her back to him, humming under her breath to the music on the radio. Hips swaying side-to-side, she mixed scrambled eggs with her spatula and then began singing absently, off-key but with satisfying joy none-the-less. Barefoot, long legs leading up to a pair of cut-off jean shorts and one of his old grey Zep shirts, with her hair tossed up in a messy ponytail, she didn't seem to notice her audience. " _I'm not goin' home without you by my side… It's not over for me…_ " Pausing, she turned over the bacon. " _We can make this work; don't you think it's worth the in-between…? Been around the world and I'm your favorite girl; I'm all you see… Spin around again, take a photograph of you and me… All I want is you, feel you coming through, I'm still waiting…_ " Crossing to the fridge, she pulled out the jug of milk and spun on her heel, singing, " _Am I on your heart tonight?"_

Spotting him, her eyes widened. With a short laugh, she rolled her eyes. "How long've you been up?"

"Long enough for your musical debut," he muttered in reply, eyeing the Kiss the Cook apron she was wearing of Bobby's.

"Ha, ha." Dropping the milk jug on the counter, she closed the fridge and wiped her hands on her apron. "Breakfast should be ready soon… You wanna set the table before Bobby tries to tell me what I did wrong and corrects it?" she teased, grinning.

He stared at her a long moment before crossing the space between them. One hand sliding behind her back and drawing her forward, he leaned down and kissed her. Slightly surprised, she made a muffled noise as his lips slanted across hers. Palms sliding up his chest, she wrapped them behind his neck and leaned into him. Lifting up on her tip-toes, she arched into him until every inch of her body was touching his. Hand bunching in her shirt while the other slid to cup her jean-clad butt, he met her mouth hungrily. She tasted like mint toothpaste and black coffee. He thought he could smell his body-wash, lingering there beneath the overwhelming aroma of bacon and hashed browns, scrambled eggs and burning toast.

"Mmm…" She drew back abruptly, eyes blinking to try and get her senses back before she turned, saw the smoke coming out of the toaster and with a groan, hurried over to pop the charred bread.

Waving an oven-mitt in the air while she leaned over the sink to push the window open, hoping to air out the smoke, Dean watched, coming to a very simple conclusion.

"Marry me," he said.

Pausing, she looked back, eyes wide. "What?"

He half-grinned. "Marry me."

Her mouth was agape a moment before opening and closing at random, trying to form words, and finally she said, " _Christo_."

Hearing chuckling behind him, Dean turned to glare at his brother and Bobby who were staring into the kitchen and not showing the smallest sign of apology for doing so. Pursing his lips, he crossed, closed the double doors with a roll of his eyes and turned back to face Chloe, only to find she was searching cupboards for something. "What're you looking for?"

"Where does Bobby keep the holy water?" she wondered aloud.

Sighing, he tossed his head back. "I'm not _possessed!_ "

Hands knotted at her sides, she stopped and stared at him once more. "Then why… Why are you _proposing?_ "

Licking his lips, he blew out a long breath. "Because…" He smiled slightly. "'Cause we could either die tomorrow or fifty years from now… and either way I wanna spend it with you."

Eyes warm with tears, she blinked rapidly. "Dean… You don't have to propose for that. I mean…" She inhaled deeply. "I'm not going anywhere. Not by _choice_."

"I know that," he assured, taking a step closer. "I just… I look at Bobby and he's- He never really recovered after he lost Karen. But when she came back, even just for a little while, it was like this whole other person. He was… He was happy and thankful an-and _complete_." He screwed up his face. "And then I think of my dad and…" He shook his head. "You're my future, Chloe… You're the best thing I've got in this world and- and if by some completely crazy chance I don't lose you then I wanna know we've got a helluva lot more to look forward to…" He licked his lips, walking closer, hands held up. "And if you wanna go back to Metropolis, you wanna set down roots there and forget all this monster stuff, I'm good with that. I can live with that. But not having you at _all_ …" He shook his head.

"Dean… I never said I wanted to go back to Metropolis…" She lifted her hands. "And if that's what's scaring you—"

"I'm not scared," he argued. "I'm stubborn." He managed a smile. "I'm not the easiest guy to get along with, let alone to love, and I think you love me, I _want_ you to love me, and if it means hangin' up the colt an-and bein' a mechanic or gettin' some minimum wage job, I'll do it." He stared at her firmly. "I'll _hate_ it, but… I'll do it."

Meeting him in the middle of the kitchen, she shook her head. "I _do_ love you. I love you enough not to ask you to do any of that… To know that your life, as ridiculously hard as it often seems, is out here, on the road… Doing what you do best." She stared up at him searchingly. "Because I fit here too, Dean. I fit here more than I ever have anywhere else. And if it _means_ dying tomorrow, then I accept that. If it means dying fifty years from now on some suicidal hunt for a _wendigo,_ then I'm okay with that too." Reaching up, she cupped his face. "What I want… is _you_. All that other stuff is secondary, i-it's unimportant."

Wrapping his fingers around her wrists, his thumbs dragging along her hammering pulse, he stared at her. "Then marry me."

She smiled. "You really need a promise of forever on a piece of paper?"

"I need a wife…" He chuckled lowly. "Hell, maybe I'll stop offering myself up for suicide missions if I've got someone to tell me to cut it out." Digging into his pocket, he produced the box, popped the top with his thumb and asked again, "Marry me, Chloe."

Swallowing tightly, her brows narrowed. "You're sure?"

He laughed. "I'm _sure._ "

"If I say yes, this is it…" she warned. "No going back, no sending me off to witness protection, it's _us_ , through to the end."

Burying a hand in her hair, he squeezed her neck. "Deal."

"Then yes…" She laughed breathlessly. "Yes."

Grinning, he leaned down and caught her smiling mouth in a long, passion-filled kiss. Arm wrapping tight around her waist, he lifted her up off the floor and leaned back, holding her close and slanting his mouth across hers, over and over, until air was a must. Legs encircling his waist, she pressed her forehead to his, panting. "You're crazy, y'know that?" she murmured.

He nipped her lower-lip playfully. "Not the only one."

They laughed, exchanging short, sweet kisses.

"Now that she's said yes, you wanna turn off the stove 'fore you burn down the whole damn house?" Bobby growled from behind the closed kitchen doors.

"Oh crap!" Chloe exclaimed, hopping down from Dean's arms and rushing to the stove to turn off the now burnt… well, everything.

"Guess we're goin' _out_ for breakfast," Dean said with a lazy grin.

With a chuckle, Chloe leaned back against the sink and shook her head.

Taking her hand, he tugged her close, and took out the engagement ring. Now that he was actually looking at, realizing he hadn't before, he thought it fit her. White gold band, antique in style with hand engraved trim, and a diamond in the center. It was Karen's once and now Chloe's; passing on a legacy. And it fit, like it was meant to be there, on her finger. Locking their hands together, she wrapped an arm around his neck and pressed her ear to his chest. "You can come in now…" she called out knowingly.

The kitchen doors opened quickly and in came Bobby and Sam, grinning widely.

"So… Congratulations!" Sam exclaimed, eyes wide.

Looking up from her place in Dean's arms, she smiled. "As a favor to your soon-to-be sister-in-law… Can we go out for breakfast somewhere that doesn't have _grease_ as a main ingredient?"

With a snort, he nodded. "I think we can manage that."

"Well, this morning just gets better and better," she mused.

"Probably spiced up those eggs too much anyway," Bobby grumbled.

Rolling her eyes, Chloe smiled at him. "Uh-huh, pretend you're not totally happy for us all you want, but I see right through you."

"Yeah," He pursed his lips, "and what do you see me sayin' next?"

"Clean up the kitchen?" she replied innocently.

He grumbled agreeably and she was too happy to argue.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXVII.**

Bobby contacted a Justice of the Peace shortly after they went out for breakfast. The only one that came out to lend a helping hand in Sioux Falls wasn't going to be in town for at least a week. With the ring on her finger, Dean figured he could handle that. Even if some part of him was on constant guard, assuming the worst was right around the corner. And, since he was often right, it seemed Pestilence was leaving his calling card out for them to find. Three towns were being bombarded by Swine Flu, an epidemic of it the likes they knew _had_ to be coming from none other than a Horseman. For three days now they'd been tracking him and finally, the need for sleep had caught up, sending Dean and Sam upstairs for some shut-eye.

"So, are we trying to figure out the next town he'll hit or just hoping he'll be in the same town when we get wind of it?" Chloe wondered, stretching her arms above her head as she surveyed the news online. Her laptop was propped open on Bobby's desk, behind which sat the gruff man himself who was marking down Pestilence's journey across a map.

"'m hopin' we can figure out which town…" He sighed. "Not that we're havin' much luck."

"By all accounts he's heading East… But that still gives us a pretty wide variety of places to be in." Rubbing her eyes, she yawned to herself, shaking her head as if to turn away the lingering need for sleep.

Bobby stared at her. "Surprised Dean hasn't dragged you off to bed yet."

She half-smiled. "He did. But he fell asleep before I did and I thought I had a few hours left in me."

Snorting, he pursed his lips and cocked a brow.

Holding up a hand, she asked, "Please? No lectures. I'm well aware of the awesome affects of sleep, but… Right now, I'm in research mode. And besides, we'll be on the road tomorrow. I can catch a nap then."

"Puh," he scoffed. "You're keepin' an eye on me."

Frowning, she leaned back in her seat. "So I'm worried… I may not be a trained hunter, but I see more than the average eye. You haven't been getting much sleep lately either, Bobby."

"Yeah, well, things are gettin' cataclysmic by the day," he grumbled.

"And it's not only on _your_ shoulders to solve that," she reminded gently, smiling. "You've got a couple of hard-headed guys upstairs that will do _everything_ in their power to help… But they don't want to see _you_ burned out over it."

"Could'a said the same when Dean was off on his pity-me trip and you weren't sleepin' a wink," he muttered in reply, scowling.

"Yeah, well… I wasn't trying _not_ to sleep; it was just an unfortunate side-effect."

"Look… Sully…" He sighed, leaning forward in his seat. "Since I got my ass attached to these here wheels, what I can and can't do's become a whole lot more noticeable. I may not be able to kick ass like I used to, but I can still do research better than anybody out there. And more than anything, we need a game plan." He lifted a brow. "So you can either help me make one or you can keep bitchin' 'bout my sleepin' habits. But I already got my mind set on what I'm doin'… So?"

Blowing out a heavy exhale, she sat forward. "All right… What d'you wanna do?"

…

"CDC?" Dean asked, sitting back at the kitchen table, a mug of steaming black coffee between his hands.

"Center of Disease Control," Chloe replied, walking back to the table to scoop scrambled eggs off the pan and onto Sam's plate. He smiled up at her in thanks.

"I know what it is," Dean grumbled back. "But where are we headed?"

"Cases have more than tripled in a town out in West Nevada," Bobby told him, passing him a few papers. "If this ain't Pestilence, we've got too many problems to name."

"So me and Sammy'll take a trip out there after breakfast. Should be there in…" He glanced at the time. "Hell, tomorrow, round the same time if we drive right through."

"I'm not sitting back here, looking pretty," Chloe intervened, cocking a brow.

"There's a Swine Flu epidemic," he argued, sighing.

"I agreed to marry you, Dean. But trust me, those archaic vows about _obeying_ you…?" She stared at him seriously. "Never gonna happen."

Pursing his lips, he stabbed a sausage on his plate. "Fine… But you start foamin' at the mouth and I'm not gonna be held responsible for any jokes I make."

She rolled her eyes. "It's swine flu. Not rabies."

"Yeah, you wait 'til Pesitlence plays around a bit and we'll see what weird disease it morphs into."

Bobby snorted. "Yeah, all right, _Furillo and Joyce_ , can we focus less on your tragic love story and more on the case at hand?"

"Who the hell's Furillo and Joyce?" he muttered.

"The Hill Street Blues? It was a cop show back in…" Looking at their confused faces, Bobby muttered, "Damn idjits." He frowned. "Never mind. The point is, you three knuckleheads need to get down there and see what's what. If we're lucky, we'll get some kind of idea on where Pestilence is headed."

"Awesome," Dean muttered sarcastically. "Can't wait to hang out with a whole lot of _sick_ people."

Bobby slapped him upside the back of his head and then rolled away, muttering under his breath about young people and their lack of respect for good TV.

…

Sam volunteered the front and Chloe was fairly certain it was only because she and Dean were recently engaged, because with the way he was fidgeting in the back, his too-long legs not comfortable with the confines, there was no way he _liked_ sitting back there.

 _Engaged_. It felt both right and unusual. Logically, she knew that their engagement seemed too early, not at all thought out as it might've been under different circumstances. And she knew she'd get some backlash for it from a few of her friends; namely, Clark. But as her thumb rubbed the bottom of her engagement ring, she felt her face brighten, a smile drawing her mouth up.

She hadn't expected it, hadn't even given it a second-thought, really. Coming to the conclusion that they were meant for a lot more than just a passing interest and a few years of a trying, drama-filled relationship, some part of her had already known that they were going into this for the long-haul. Just as soon as Dean pulled his head out of his self-sacrificing ass, that was. But she hadn't expected him to ask her to marry him, which is probably why she went straight for the holy water and expected it all to be some demon-invented ploy somehow. Or maybe she was scared it was a hallucination, one that deep down she'd wanted but didn't have the guts to dream about.

In any case, she'd said yes. _Yes!_ And she didn't regret it. She stared at the profile of the man next to her and honestly couldn't say there was one ounce of her that thought she should've said no. Would there be complications? Yes. Was it hasty? Yes. Was there a very large chance they could die before ever getting in front of a Justice of the Peace? Yes. Would she regret it? No. Despite everything that might come at them, despite all they'd already endured, there was nothing that could make her regret this choice.

He glanced at her. "What're you thinkin'?" he wondered, brows furrowed.

She grinned, shaking her head. "Nothing." Reaching over, she squeezed his hand briefly but he held on, twining their fingers. One hand on the wheel and the other in his lap, he dragged his thumb back and forth and in random circles along her palm. And head falling back against the seat, she smiled, staring out at the wide-open road. There would probably be a lot of this in her future, she knew, and she couldn't say she didn't like the idea of that.

…

"Okay, explain the Croatoan virus to me," Chloe asked, sitting at a diner with a half-eaten salad in front of her, looking the complete _opposite_ of Dean's greasy burger and fries.

"It was made by the demons… we think. It causes this homicidal rage in people," Sam explained.

"And how do humans _get_ it?"

"It can be injected into the blood; it'll come up looking like sulfur." He frowned. "Dad had a theory that Croatoan was a demon's name; a demon of plague and _pestilence_ ," he said pointedly.

Her eyes widened, brows lifting with understanding but her lips thinned. "So what does Croatoan have in common with Swine Flu?"

"Besides being an epidemic of serious proportions?" Dean replied. "Nothing."

She frowned. "But you guys think they're related?"

"I think if Pestilence wanted to screw up the world at large the Croatoan virus would be his go-to."

Nodding, she sat back, picking at her salad thoughtfully. "Is there a cure?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a dour look.

"I'll take that as a no," she muttered.

"Once they're infected… they either get killed or they kill others," Dean told her, frowning. "There's no third choice."

"So the only chance we've got it not letting them _get_ infected," Sam sighed.

"And since we're one step behind Pestilence, that plan is looking less and less ideal," she said, nodding.

Not that they were going to give up even if the odds _weren't_ in their favor.

…

They stopped at motel for the night but with Sam still on a high of energy and currently in the room doing research, Dean snuck Chloe out to the Impala.

"I hope you're not going to suggest we take a trip to anywhere that involves a lot of people… I'm currently paranoid that I'll touch the wrong doorknob and be the first Croatoan infected patsy," she told him, leaning back in the passenger seat of the Impala.

He smirked. "Nope… Just wanted to get out of there…" He glanced at her for a second before his eyes moved back to the road. "Hasn't been much time for just you and me lately." He shrugged, shifting in his seat.

She grinned slowly, realizing that he _missed_ her. "Hasn't been _that_ long, has it?"

"Almost a week." He narrowed his eyes at her. "And I _know_ you've been sneakin' down to help Bobby with research late at night."

She lifted a shoulder, frowning. "He works himself too hard… like he's trying to make up for something."

Sighing, he leaned back in his seat. "He doesn't say it, but… sometimes I think he feels like a nuisance since he can't use his legs anymore." Pursing his lips, he shook his head. "He's not… He's the only one who sees it that way."

Elbow flat against the seat, she turned to look at him, holding her head up with her hand. "You really love him, don't you?"

"Who, Bobby?" He scoffed under his breath. "He's like a dad to me." Mouth falling, he muttered, "Sometimes _better_ than a dad."

"You've got a lot of baggage with John still…" She half-smiled. "I guess it's like that with most families."

He glanced at her. "You and your dad seem to have it figured out."

"An email a week does _not_ a great relationship make." Sighing, she shrugged. "He never quite fit in with my lifestyle, I guess… He was proud and he loved me, but…" She shook her head. "He's better off in a place where my mistakes and my trouble-making can't get to him."

"But you miss him."

"Sometimes," she allowed. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have the kind of bond with him that Clark had with his father… Where I could tell him just about anything and he would do his best to understand, to help. My dad…" She smiled slightly. "He worked, a lot, and he knew that I was probably doing something that would end up making headlines, be it good or bad. But, he didn't really _understand_ what it was I was doing. He thought it was just my too-curious nature at work." Her eyes fell. "And like usual, the people I cared about were always the first targeted when that curiosity came back to bite me."

"Which is why he's on some sandy beach with a step-mom you've never met…" He nodded to himself. "Maybe I'm not the only self-sacrificing one in this relationship."

She grinned. "Giving up my dad so he could lead the normal life is _one thing_. Giving up my soul mate because I'm scared they may or may not be killed, even though they're ready and willing to put all of themselves into the cause is a whole other…" She lifted her brows at him. "I'm not a China doll, Dean. I'll get scraped up, bruised, hell, I may even die a few times, but… If there is any way I can help, you have to know I will."

"Yeah, I'm startin' to get that," he muttered.

Turning the wheel, he brought the car down an old, heavily shrouded path.

"Where are we going?" she wondered, peering through the thick foliage of trees and bushes.

"Sammy and I've been through here before a few times… I found this old drive-in theatre out here a few years ago," he told her, eyes set ahead. "Thought these things went extinct, but…" He shrugged. "We're probably a little late for the opening credits, but we should be able to catch the last half of whatever's playing."

They made it in time to see the Freddie Krueger at his best.

 _Nightmare on Elm Street_.

"Can't even go to a movie…" he muttered, snorting.

Chloe chuckled. "So we'll use this to our advantage…" Turning in her seat, she kicked off her shoes and lifted her feet to lie in his lap. "All right, Twenty questions… One: What's your best memory of your mom?"

Wrapping a hand around one of her feet, he squeezed, kneading his thumb into the arch before he began rubbing his heel deep into her foot, smirking when she moaned in appreciation. "Of my mom…" He nodded. "'Kay, when I was little she used to make these _awesome_ PB and J sandwiches… No crusts, butter on both sides, just the right amount of peanut butter and jam and then she'd sit down and eat it with me…" He shook his head in sweet memory. "She liked honey on hers… And when we were done, she'd bring me right up to the sink and she'd wash our hands together. It was this… afternoon ritual of ours." He frowned slowly. "It's just too bad, y'know? That Sammy never really got that with her."

"Yeah…" she murmured, eyes falling.

"How 'bout you? What's the best memory of your dad?"

Leaning back against the car door, she tipped her head in thought.

"Hmm…" She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Okay, it was probably back when I was _six_ and he took me fishing."

" _You?_ Fishing?"

She glared at him playfully. "Hey, I'm no princess."

He squeezed her foot, grinning. "Go on."

"Okay, so we went out to Crater Lake, just me and him, a bucket of slimy worms and a row boat…" Her face brightened. "He kept telling me not to be worried, not to rock the boat… Meanwhile, I wanted to see what was going _under_ the water so I kept leaning over one side. He used to call me _precocious_ … Said I was more mature than him with my need to always know how everything worked… I was just curious." She shrugged a shoulder. "He was proud of it, though. His daughter; always looking for the answer to the questions unasked."

He nodded. "And now? Is he proud?"

" _Yeah_. Even if he doesn't know _exactly_ what it is I'm doing… I think he'd be proud of anything I did."

Wiggling one of her toes, he cocked a brow. "Your turn, Goldie."

Taking a deep breath, she turned her eyes up in thought. "Who is your… _best friend_?"

Pursing his lips, he looked down. "Best friend…" He scoffed to himself. "I guess it's… _Sam_."

She smiled slowly.

"Even if he's a total geek, he's…" He lifted a shoulder, averting his eyes with discomfort. Laughing lightly, he shook his head. "Who'd a thought…?"

She grinned. She had, actually.

"How 'bout yours?"

She rolled her eyes. "Now you're just stealing my questions… Okay, my cousin. Lois. She's loud and often obnoxious and she _almost_ gets into more trouble than me, but… She's the best person to have behind you. She'd do anything for me."

He turned his head, glanced down at her hand and reached out, tapping her ring. "You tell her yet?"

She threaded her fingers with his, keeping his hand with hers against her knees. "Not yet… I feel like telling her through an e-mail would be lacking… Maybe I'll call her tomorrow when we're on the road…"

"She, uh… She like Jimmy?" he wondered, brows heavy over his eyes.

"She was… accepting of him." She wrinkled her nose. "The day me and Jimmy got married, she was… unsure. In fact, I think she might've thought I was making the biggest mistake of my life." Chuckling under her breath, she shook her head. "And maybe I was. But back then… I wanted something of my own, something normal and sweet and that was Jimmy. He was… _average_."

He stared at her a moment and then firmed his lips. "I'm _not_ average."

She grinned. "I know."

"And you're _still_ here…" He shook his head. "Startin' to think this is a hallucination."

She squeezed his hand. "Then it was must be some kind of mutual hallucination, because I'm definitely not a figment of _your_ imagination."

"I dunno…" He looked her up and down. "Little less clothes and give you a beer and you'd be pretty much be the star of most of my fantasies."

A thick laugh escaped her. "Just a beer? I thought I'd have a pie in one hand."

His eyes darkened, smoldering. "You taste better than any pie, anyway."

Leaning forward, she bit her lip. "That right?"

"Cross my heart."

Sliding her feet out of his lap, she tugged on his hand to encourage him to lean over while she drew closer.

Her eyes fell shut as their lips met, a sigh escaping her as her shoulders seemed to slump in utter content. Sliding out from behind the wheel, he drew her into his lap, hands splayed across her back, kneading their way up and down while she wrapped her arms around his neck. Dragging her fingers down the back of his neck and scoring them through his short hair, she grinned as he groaned at the sensation. Kissing Dean always felt like coming home. It was warm and familiar; it sent shivers up and down her spine in a way that spoke of perfection. Her heart pumped rapidly as his tongue flicked against hers while he inhaled air in between the drugging slant of his lips rather than stop for any small amount of time.

He nibbled her lower lip just the way she liked; it made her hips wiggle as she felt heat spread throughout her body. She rocked herself down against him, leaning forward until their fronts were pressed tight together. Her breasts flattened against his hard chest, absorbing his heat and drowning happily in it. Hands sliding down her back, he cupped her butt, squeezing before he slid lower and massaged the undersides of her thighs. She panted into his mouth, momentarily distracted by the feel of his fingers trailing along the sensitive flesh of her legs.

Kissing down her face, he buried his mouth against her throat, suckling her pulse, teeth nibbling in just the right place to make her breath hitch. Hands falling down his chest, she slid them up beneath the bottom of his shirt and fanned her fingers out along hard, warm flesh. Oh, but his body was so beautiful. Ridges of muscle were tight beneath her exploring fingers. Strong, protective, courageous; fit him to a tee. She slid her hands around to his back, dug her fingers in and held on.

The bulge beneath his jeans grew, rubbing between her thighs. It wasn't all of him but it was enough. Hand sliding up to her shoulder, he tugged her shirt out of the way, his mouth trailing along the revealed skin. Dragging her shirt lower, his fingers slid beneath the cover of her bra and pulled it down out of the way. Leaning her back, he swiftly took her breast into his mouth, tongue and teeth teasing her pebbled nipple.

Biting her lip, she whimpered, rocking down against him harder. She wanted their jeans out of the way but couldn't get her fingers to do much more than score down his skin. When his free hand moved around to the front of her jeans, she nodded rapidly, glad he had the same idea. Undoing the button and lowering the zipper, he slid his hand down past her panties and cupped her heat firmly in his palm. She jumped, moaned his name, and pushed herself closer to him, to his long fingers. He spread her folds apart with two fingers and slid a third inside her without teasing, his thumb swiping along her clit.

" _Ohh…_ " she cried, her head falling back.

He plucked her nipple with his teeth the same time a second finger penetrated below. Her knees dug deep into the leather seat beneath them while her hips jerked forward, wanting more, wanting him deeper. Hands sliding out from his back, she reached for his jeans, undoing them in a frenzy of shaking, needy fingers. Reaching through, she wrapped her hand around his shaft and squeezed. His fingers, plunging inside her, lost their rhythm for a moment and she smiled. She wanted it to be mutual; she wanted him to feel as much as she did.

Her free hand shoved his shirt up to beneath his armpits; she wanted his skin against her. Dean shoved her shirt down to her waist, her fingers releasing his hard length just long enough to get her free of her top. One arm slung around her waist and holding her close while the other hand was shoved deep beneath her jeans, fingers drawing figure eights along her wet heat, dipping inside, only to slide back out and tease her some more, Dean kissed along her shoulder, nibbling lightly along sensitive skin. Upper body flattened against him save for where their hands stuck between them, Chloe sighed as she felt the intimacy of him so close, of having the hard outline of his body pressed tight to hers. There was something about being in Dean's arms that made her feel invincible.

Bringing her other hand around and burying it beneath his jeans, she wrapped both around his cock; drawing one up to the top, swiping her thumb along the dewy pre-come, and sliding the other around to squeeze his shaft before stroking upward, a hand constantly on him, nails lightly scraping along his tender flesh in every spot that made him jerk against her. As his panting breath hit her neck, she could feel him swelling beneath her touch. His fingers sped up inside her, his thumb rubbing her clit in tandem.

Leaning forward, she found his mouth and kissed him deeply while her hands moved faster. Breathless, their foreheads met, sweaty and warm, before they cried out against each other's mouths. Chloe felt a flood of weightless euphoria spread throughout her body as it shuddered and shook with ecstasy. Hands still moving, slower now, she felt him soften slowly. Eyes closed, his arm at her waist tightened, drawing her into him. Panting, she dropped her chin to his shoulder and just lay there a moment. Her thighs were still quaking and her insides were fluttering with pleasure; content. She could have sat there with him for a lifetime and not complained.

Hand stroking up and down her bare back, he lazily leaned back and just held her for a few, long minutes.

"I think we've become masters of foreplay," she murmured, grinning. "The actual _sex_ part… we obviously have to work on."

He snorted. "Our first time shouldn't be in a car."

Lifting her head, she cocked a brow. "I happen to think this car is _perfect_ for all sorts of things."

Chuckling, he shook his head. "Lot more room in a bed…" He eyed her up and down, eyes dark.

She felt him hardening beneath her already and she groaned. If he hadn't just made an appealing case for why they shouldn't have sex in the Impala, she might've suggested the backseat.

Leaning forward to meet his lips, tempting fate regardless, she let herself be swept away by the way he seemed to put all of himself into each kiss.

A rapping noise against the window startled them, however, and when a flashlight beam shone down on the seat, Chloe's eyes widened. "You have _got_ to be kidding me…"

Dean scowled and the officer knocked on the glass again.

Leaning over, he rolled it down and glared up at the man in blue, holding a flashlight to their faces.

Chloe turned away, trying to readjust her shirt, blushing all the while.

"You two ever heard of a _motel?_ " the policeman asked bluntly.

"Where's the fun in that?" Dean asked back, lips pursed.

"Dean…" Chloe sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Just move it along," the officer ordered, staring at them pointedly before he walked away.

"How'd we miss him sneakin' up behind us anyway?" Dean grumbled, washing the headlights bounce away through the rearview mirror.

"Must've been distracted," she muttered, lifting a brow.

"Yeah? And what were you doing that was so _distracting?_ " He squeezed her waist.

She laughed. "We were just caught, shouldn't we be heading back to the motel before he comes back to make sure we listened?"

"In a minute," he said, leaning up to catch her chuckling lips once more.

It'd be a few minutes before she remembered why they should be leaving and convinced him it was a good idea.

…

Dean was sleeping; his snore loud enough to make Sam cringe where he sat across the room, at the table.

"What are you looking for?" Chloe wondered, sitting with her legs crossed beneath her.

Glancing back at her, where she sat at the edge of his bed, he lifted a shoulder. "By the time we get where we're going, he's probably already moved on. I just wanna keep an eye out to see if he already has."

"And?" She lifted a brow.

"And…" He sighed. "If he's got a pattern, I'm not seeing it."

Frowning, she leaned forward. "What if the lack of a pattern _is_ the pattern?"

His brows furrowed. "What d'you mean?"

"Well, what if he's trying so hard _not_ to do what you'd expect that he does the opposite of what one might do if they _were_ following a pattern."

He blinked. "Either I'm _beyond_ exhaustion or I actually understood that."

She smiled. "So we know he's moving east and we know the most likely place to hit… What's the most _unlikely?_ "

Grinning slowly, he nodded. "You're kind of insanely brilliant."

Shrugging lightly, she chuckled. "On occasion."

After bringing up the map, he went through the possibilities with her and they agreed on a set plan of action. After they stopped in the small town Pestilence had _already_ hit, they'd head for the _least likely_ of next targets.

Closing his laptop, Sam sat back in his seat and sighed only for it to turn into a long yawn.

Chloe smirked. "Finally catching up with you, huh?"

He wrinkled his nose. "Let's not get into a war of who should and shouldn't be sleeping. Going a whole week, I think you have us all beat."

"I still don't think that should count." She rolled her eyes. "There were extenuating circumstances."

He scoffed. "If anything, I sleep _better_ when Dean's not around."

"With a snore like that, I can see why," she agreed, smiling back at him as he slept peacefully a few feet away.

Sam stared at her a long moment. "Did you expect this?" he wondered.

"Expect _what?_ That I'd one day be on the road with a couple of demon hunters, one of which was my destined soul mate?" She chuckled under her breath. "Can't say that was the usual future girls grew up dreaming of."

He lifted a shoulder, unable to argue. "I meant when you got here, when you got to know him… Did you ever really think you'd be getting married or-or that you'd love him like you do?"

Leaning back on her elbows, she tipped her head thoughtfully. "Honestly, when Dean and I first met, the chemistry was off the charts… And in the beginning, for me, it was more about trying to channel that into a real connection. I didn't know it was going to grow to mean so much, for either of us…" She smiled slowly. "But I'm definitely happy it did."

He nodded slowly. "Me too."

"Are you?" She stared at him searchingly. "Because sometimes I think this might be _especially_ weird for you… Dean is one thing; he and I were "fated" for each other, but… It's not as if you were written into the whole thing as accepting." She sat forward. "I'm really trying _not_ to make this awkward for you. He's your _brother_ and the last thing I want to do is get in between you two." Darting a look back at Dean and then turning her attention toward Sam once more, she said, "You guys need each other… And I won't be the catalyst in your relationship."

His lips curled at the corners. "And that's one of the reasons you two fit so well… You're not the catalyst, Chloe. It's taken some getting used to, but I like having you around. And I like what you do for Dean… He needs someone like you." He stared at her sincerely. "He can play the big, tough hero all he wants, but there are days when he's just tired a-and _broken_ … I need you to be there for him if I can't."

Brows furrowed, she shook her head. "And why wouldn't you be there?"

He lifted a shoulder. "It's the apocalypse; we don't really know what'll happen."

"Sam…" Frowning, she swallowed tightly.

"Just promise me, all right…? That you'll take care of him." He lifted a brow. "You made me promise the same once and I'm just asking that you do the same."

Jaw clenched, she nodded. "It goes both ways, though." She glanced back to make sure Dean was still fast asleep. "Like you said, there's no telling what'll happen."

Face firm with determination, he nodded.

"You wanna spit-shake on it?" she asked to lighten the mood.

He cracked a smile that only widened as another yawn broke through.

" _You_ need to get some sleep," she told him, staring pointedly.

Hands up in surrender, he stood from his seat, cracking his back and stretching his arms high above his head. "If I do, so do you," he added, crossing to make sure the door was locked.

Saluting him, she hopped off the bed and circled to climb in next to Dean, careful not to wake him. Rolling over as if he knew she was there, he wrapped an arm around her waist.

After changing in the bathroom, Sam walked back into the room, flicking the lamp off and climbing into his bed.

"Night Chlo," he said to her, turning over onto his stomach.

"Night Sam," she murmured, clasping a hand around Dean's forearm, fingers stroking as she closed her eyes.

Funny how something as simple as knowing Dean would be taken care of could put her at ease. She wanted to be there, with him, until the very end. But even with the engagement between them and the knowledge that they were slowly tracking down Pestilence, she knew that the future was blind. Something could happen and she could die or Sam could, but in the end they at least knew that the other would be there to pick up the pieces of the one person that they each loved beyond measure. Dean Winchester didn't know just how lucky he really was.

…

" _Please_ stay in the car?" Dean asked, staring at her.

She scoffed. "Hey, I got this suit out _especially_ for this occasion." Pushing the passenger door open, she climbed out, feeling even more stable on her high heels than she had her usual running shoes of late.

Grumbling, Dean fiddled with his tie. "Do you have to fight with me on _everything?_ "

"If you weren't so hard-headed about the smallest of things, no, I wouldn't." She rolled her eyes. "I won't be kept in a bubble, Dean." Hands on her hips, she reminded, "I was an investigative reporter. I've seen and done things that would make you bite my head off now. At the very _least_ , you should be happy I'm with you rather than sleuthing on my own."

He pursed his lips but didn't argue.

With Sam on her other side, the three of them entered the clinic, searching out the head doctor, each receiving a blue face mask when they did. About the same height as Chloe, with long dark hair and features, she led them down the hall to the waiting area.

Chloe wrinkled her nose behind the mask and looked up between the two brothers.

"Hey, check it out, I look the like the King of Pop," Dean said, chuckling.

Sam and Chloe exchanged a look, each rolling their eyes while he shook his head.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad the CDC are here," the doctor said, stopping and turning to face them. "But what we really need is vaccines."

"Yeah, ya got that right," Dean replied, looking around at the waiting room full of coughing, wheezing patients.

"Well, tell me, have you noticed anything _unusual_ about the strain?" Sam wondered, brows furrowed. "Any signs of behavioral change? Like _aggression?_ "

"Excuse me?" Her forehead screwed up.

"Have the flu victims shown any signs of, uh… _homicidal tendencies?_ " Dean implored.

"What my colleagues are trying to say is," Chloe intervened, "There's been some talk about a few anomalies in the recent strain of flues going around and we're wondering if you might've caught any down here… They've been causing some unusual behavioral traits that can cause hysteria and paranoia to the level that it might seem the infected are even _enraged_."

Eyes narrowed thoughtfully, the doctor nodded slowly. "I haven't heard of that happening here. None of the cases I've had are showing those signs. Symptomatically speaking, we're looking at a relatively mild case of Swine Flu here," she told them, nodding. "Probably add up to a miserable week off work, that's about it."

"So nothing _unusual?_ " Dean wondered.

"Well…" She accepted a chart from a nearby doctor and looked down to survey its contents. "Day and a half ago, we didn't have a single case, now we're looking at over seventy… Infectious equivalent of a briefcase bomb, so yeah, I might call that a little unusual."

Chloe, Dean and Sam exchanged looks.

"Day and a half," Sam muttered thoughtfully.

"That's the same time those statues started crying…" Dean replied.

"I'm sorry… What was that?" the doctor asked, staring at them wonderingly.

"What was what?" he said, looking between her and the other doctor.

"Did you just say a bunch of statues started _crying?_ "

" _What?"_ Sam said, eyes wide. "Wha-No-No-Wh-Who would…"

"Who would say _that?_ " Dean asked, shaking his head. "Huh? Crazy people."

"Exactly."

"Heh, which we are not."

"Excuse them, they missed their morning coffee. He said 'That's the same time those patients started _dying,'_ " Chloe interrupted, leaning forward to add, "We've had a few really bad cases, involving those mutated strains, you see…" She frowned. "It's important that this doesn't get out. So far, it seems we've caught it. We _just_ want to be on the safe side."

The doctor nodded slowly, still eyeing the two men weirdly. "Just… get us some vaccine."

While the two Winchesters nodded, Chloe waited until the doctor had left before turning around. "Bobby was right… You two are idiots."

"Hey, it was a good cover; no harm done," Dean argued.

"That doctor probably thinks you two are crack-pots!" She rolled her eyes. "Crying statues? Really? You guys couldn't wait until we were out of the public eye to talk shop?"

"Couldn't help it. Had a thought, didn't think she'd hear it."

Pushing the front door of the clinic open, Chloe dragged down her mask. "Trust me, even when you don't _think_ a woman is listening, she _is_." With that, she turned on her heel and walked toward the Impala.

"Ouch," Sam said, lifting his brows. "You are _so_ in the doghouse."

"Wh-" He frowned. "I am not."

Snorting, Sam climbed in the passenger seat, brows raised pointedly.

"I'm _not_ ," Dean muttered to himself, scowling as he circled the Impala.

…

With Sam's directions to the next town in order, they were back on the road and on their way toward where they _hoped_ they'd find Pestilence. Night had fallen, giving the road a wet glow. The hum of the engine was lulling them into a false sense of security. Curled up in her usual place in the backseat, Chloe had just put her laptop away when Sam dialed Bobby's place.

"Lemme guess," he muttered, "Another steaming hot pile of Swine Flu."

"Yup," Dean sighed.

Sam shook his head. "Doesn't make any sense, Bobby. Pestilence touched down here, I'm sure of it."

"Why's he servin' up soft-serve like Swine Flu when he's got Croatoan up his sleeve? I-I-I don't get it."

"Doesn't matter what the sick sonuvabitch is doin', what _matters_ is this is the fourth town he's hit – that we _know_ of – and we're still eatin' his dust." He sighed. "Didja get _anything?_ "

"They _almost_ had the doctor calling for straitjackets," Chloe interrupted.

Dean pursed his lips at her.

She cocked a brow back. "They let it slip that there were statues _crying_ … The doctor looked at them like they were suffering from hallucinations!"

"Tattle-tale," Sam muttered.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Before we start the finger-pointin' war, do we even have a snowball as a probable next target?"

"Uh, well, Chloe found a non-pattern… pattern."

" _Huh?_ "

"She thinks he's trying so hard _not_ to have a pattern that he's doing the opposite of what he would if he _were_ following a pattern."

There was a long pause. "Right…" He cleared his throat. "Well, as long as you know what you're doing…"

He sounded skeptical and so Chloe rolled her eyes.

"Far as I can tell, he's still headed east, so…" Bobby sighed, "Head east."

The two Winchester's glanced at each other and then repeated, "East?"

"Bobby, we're in West Nevada… East is practically all there is," Dean reminded.

"Yeah, well, you better get to driving."

Sighing, Sam ended the phone call and put his cell away.

"You're right," Chloe muttered sarcastically, "His idea is so much better than mine."

Dean frowned. "I never said you were wrong… I just said we should check in with Bobby."

"Because you have no idea what I mean by a non-pattern-pattern."

"Hell, I'm not even sure it's English," he retorted, lifting a brow.

Sam snorted.

"Do you have a _better_ idea?" Chloe asked.

"Say, I might," interrupted a familiar English accent.

Jumping, Sam and Dean turned around to see none other than Crowley sitting next to Chloe, who was staring up at him in surprise.

Slamming his foot down on the break, Dean swerved the car to a sudden stop while Sam lurched up, knife at the ready. "Duck," he told Chloe, who did as commanded.

However, as Sam's powerful arm struck through the air, the blade went through the leather upholstery and into the car seat rather than the smug Crowley.

"Did you get him?" Dean asked, looking back.

"He's gone," Sam panted.

"Chloe?"

"I'm fine," she assured, sitting back up. "A little startled, but nothing I can't handle."

A knock at the passenger door window drew their attention then. "Fancy a fag and a chat?" Crowley asked.

Glaring, Dean reached for the handle to his door. "Chloe—"

"I'm not hiding in the car," she sighed, hurrying to her own door and climbing out, keeping equal with Sam's long strides as they circled the Impala to the other side.

"You're upset," Crowley said, pacing. "We should discuss it. Not _here_ , but…"

"You wanna talk?" Sam waved his knife around. "After what you _did_ to us?"

"After what I—What _I_ did to _you?_ " he exclaimed. "I gave you the Colt!"

"Yeah! And you knew it wouldn't work against the devil!" Sam growled angrily.

Chloe looked between them, swallowing tightly as the usually quiet, even reserved, Winchester lost his temper.

"I _never!_ " Crowley denied.

"You set us up! We lost _people_ on that suicide run… _Good_ people!"

"Who you choose to take on the ride is your own _business_ ," he said, turning serious eyes on Chloe. "And _you_ must be the soul mate... How's life on the road with these two _gits?_ "

"Interesting," she replied shortly.

Looking between the two brothers, Crowley sighed. "Look, everything is _still_ the same…" He waved his hand in the air for emphasis. "W-We're all still in this together." He grinned charmingly.

Dean's brows lifted.

"Sure we are," Sam said before lunging forward and cutting the knife up through the air, aiming to slice straight through from Crowley's gut to his skull.

He disappeared and reappeared right behind Chloe, hand on either shoulder, and said, "Call your dog off, please!"

"Get away from her," Dean ordered, his tone low and dangerous.

Crowley looked from her to him. "I'm not here to hurt your little dumpling, Deanie-boy."

Sam's jaw ticked. "Chloe, come here."

She frowned. "Sit, Chloe, roll-over."

" _Chloe_ ," Dean growled.

"Fine, fine." Stepping away from Crowley, she crossed toward them, only to be shoved behind their massive backs.

Holding Sam back from attacking, Dean stared at the demon, his eyes narrowed. Finally, he said, "Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't let him end you."

Breathing heavily, he looked between them. "I can give you Pestilence."

"What d'you know about Pestilence?"

He smirked. "I know how to get 'im."

Dean's eyes narrowed.

"That's got your interest, dunnit?"

Sam sneered, turning back to look at Dean, only to see his old brother _considering_ the offer. His eyes widened. "Are you actually _listening_ to this?"

"Sam…" He held up a hand to stop him.

"Are you friggin' _nuts?_ "

"Shut up for a second, Sam!"

"Shut up the _both_ of you!" Crowley shouted. "Look… I swear, I thought the Colt would work." His face screwed up. "It's an _honest_ mistake! It's all part of the _learning_ process. But nothing's _changed!_ I still want the devil… _dead_. Well…" His eyes rolled upward in irritation and waved his hand in front of him, "One thing's changed. Now the devil _knows_ that I want him dead. Which, by the way, makes me the most _buggered_ son in _all_ of creation."

"Holy crap," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes, "We don't _care_."

"They burned down my house!" he exclaimed. Getting no appropriate understanding he yelled, "They _ate_ my tailor!"

Dean glanced up, pursed his lips and then shrugged it off.

"Two months, under a rock, like a _bloody salamander!_ " he yelled. "Every _demon_ on Hell and Earth has got his eyes out for me." He looked between them, his eyes wide, and then found his composure. "And yet, here I am. _Last_ place I should be."

Chloe saw Sam flex his fingers around his knife and reached out, placing her hand atop his to still him. When he looked back, she stared up at him, asking for him to understand, to try and reign in his temper a moment.

"In the _road_ ," Crowley exclaimed, "talkin' to Sam and Dean Winchester under a _friggin' spotlight!_ " Raising his hand, he pointed it at the overhead highway light, making it shatter, sparks and glass flying to the ground.

Blinking, the two brothers glanced at the mess and then back to Crowley.

He sighed, touching his mouth with the tips of his fingers in thought. "So come with me?" he asked. Glancing at Sam, he added, "Please." Eyes moving to Dean, he frowned. "You want the Horsemen rings or not?"

Dean's chin rose.

"Yes…" He nodded. "I know all about that." He took a step back. "Shall we?"

The two brothers looked to each other and then back at Chloe.

"If he makes the wrong move, says the wrong thing, I'll be happy to join in on torturing him," she said, hands on her hips as she eyed the demon up and down. "But if he's got a direct way to Pestilence…"

"Ah, and it all becomes clear. The _lady_ is the true brains to the operation."

Dean rolled his eyes and then walked to the car. "Chloe, you're up front with us."

"I know I'm small… but I'm not _that_ small. Your and Sam's shoulders will _suffocate_ me."

"I don't bite, Love," Crowley said, smirking. "Plenty of room in the back."

When Dean and Sam both glared at him darkly, he held his hands up in a surrendering motion, grinning all the while.

It was going to be a long drive.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXVIII**.

Crowley's house was something right out of a horror movie. It was a dark, run-down house with a ramshackle appearance. The windows were broken or boarded over, the door hanging by its hinges, and the outside paint had long peeled away or been faded by the sun and time. She followed just behind Dean and in front of Sam, fairly sure that they thought she hadn't noticed how they sandwiched her, covering her back and front so she was less of a target.

"Here we are," Crowley said, looking around at his dreary surroundings. "My life on the lam... How the mighty have fallen." He pursed his lips. "Single-pane glass, used contraception in the fireplace…" Waving a hand, he lit a roaring fire.

Dean eyed the flames in slight surprise before reaching back to check on Chloe. Catching his hand, she held on, squeezing reassuringly.

"The water damage alone…" Crowley turned to face him.

"My heart's bleedin' for you," Dean muttered sarcastically. "Now how d'you know about the rings?"

"Well now…" He smirked, eyes falling. "I've been keeping a close eye on you lot."

"We got hex bags; we're hidden from demons," Sam argued.

"All but one." Crowley held up a finger for emphasis and then turned it back to himself. "That night you broke into my house, our first date, my valet hid a tracking device in your car. A magical coin that easily trumps your little bags of bones. It allows me to hear things too." His brows lifted. "And _my_ , the things I've heard." He grinned. "Still haven't sealed the deal with your little lady, eh Deany?"

"What?" Sam asked, surprised.

Dean took a warning step toward Crowley, who held a hand up as if to ward him off.

Chloe tugged him back and lifted a brow at the demon as if to say, 'Get on with it already.'

"How _do_ you stop yourself, Scrumptious?" he asked Chloe, eyeing Dean up.

"For someone who wants to play nice, you're not doing a great job," she told him, glaring.

He sighed, clasping his hands in front of him and cocking his head to the side. "So, you wanna cram the devil back in the box?" He smacked his lips. "Cunning scheme…" Face falling serious, he told them, "I want in."

Dean lifted his chin, staring thoughtfully. "You said you could get us Pestilence."

Eye falling, he inhaled sharply. "Well now…" Turning away, he admitted, "I don't know where Pestilence… _is_ , per se." He motioned a finger around in the air before him. "But I _do_ know the demon who _does_." Tucking his hands in his pockets, he turned back toward them. "He's what you might call the Horsemen's… stable boy." He shrugged. "He handles their itineraries, their… personal needs. He's who you want, believe me." His lips curled in a smile. "He'll tell us where Sneezy's at."

"Well, how do we get him to spill?" Dean asked, brows lifting. "Rip out his toenails?"

"No… Nuts at his pay-grade don't crack. You bring 'im here an' I sell 'im."

"Sell him?" Sam said, unconvinced.

"Please…" he scoffed arrogantly. "I've sold sin to saints for centuries. Think I can't close one little demon?"

He scowled back, jaw ticking.

"All right, so where's this demon of yours?" Dean asked.

…

Hours away, at Niveus Pharmaceuticals, a tall, handsome, and very angry Vice President of Distribution stood before a boardroom full of his teamsters.

"I don't wanna hear weeks, I wanna hear _days!_ " he exclaimed.

Sitting forward, one man argued, "But the lab isn't finished testing yet."

He stared darkly at him. "You let me worry about the lab."

Startled, he said, "Sir, you're asking for distribution on an unprecedented scale."

Shoulders lifted, he argued, "Well, we have an _unprecedented_ outbreak! The nation…" He picked up a newspaper for emphasis, "is _terrified_ of Swine Flu!" Looking around at his workers, he said, "They want our vaccine, they _need_ our vaccine! It's called _demand_ , people, not _supply!_ "

"We're doing our best," said the same argumentative young man.

Sharp eyes cut toward him as the man at the front said, "Oh, you're doing your best… you're doing your best… Well, then do the best of _somebody better!_ " he snarled before slapping the newspaper against a man's chest before he walked out of the boardroom and returned to his office.

Not fifteen minutes later, the young man who'd spoken out was called into the boss's office to find him behind his laptop. He knocked awkwardly at the door. "You wanted to see me?"

Looking up from the screen, he said, "Mitchell, yes, come on in."

Hurrying in, Mitchell lifted a hand and immediately said, "Look, Mr. Brady," He smiled, "I know how important this is." He pressed a hand to his chest. "A-And I'm sorry if I s-s—"

Brady waved a hand. "No apologies." He shook his head. "Mitch… I need people like you."

He drew his head back in surprise, brows lifting. "Really?"

"Really!" He turned his chair to stand. "In _fact_ , there is a position in communications that I think _you_ ," He pointed at him, "would be perfect for."

Mitch half-smiled. "Sounds great."

He came to a stop just to his left. " _Is_ great." He reached for an antique looking silver bowl with faces, mid-scream, embellished all over it. "So what do you say, you ready to enter the cut-throat world of upper-management?"

Mitch nodded. "Awesome!"

Brady lifted a shaving knife just behind Mitch's far shoulder and grinned. "Awesome," he agreed before slicing Mitch's throat open and filling his chalice with the man's warm crimson blood.

As Mitch's limp, dead body hit the floor, he muttered, "Watch the shoes please."

When a guard came in to clean up, dragging Mitch's body away and leaving a bloody trail along the floor, Brady retook his seat and told him, "Get the rest later, thanks."

Looking up, the guard's eyes a demon black, he simply nodded and continued pulling Mitch away by his feet.

As the door closed, Brady leaned forward, face hovering just above the bowl of fresh blood and took a deep breath before chanting in Latin, the lights flashing around him. He watched keenly as a bubble formed in the center and from it burst a fly. Eyes black with demonic satisfaction, he greeted, "Sir… great news on the vaccine trials, the result have been… _really_ quite grotesque. I think you'll be pleased." A second fly bubbled out. "How soon? Distribution of this scale, I mean, we do need _some_ humans, we can't possess them all." He grinned, sitting back in his chair. "And don't even get me started on the teamsters." He laughed but stopped short as the buzzing of the flies around him increased. Swallowing tightly, he nodded. "I know. I'm doing my best." His chin fell as he listened. "Yes sir… The best of someone better." The blood bubbled once more and he licked his lips. "I will, of course." The buzzing stopped suddenly, the lights falling dim and Brady's eyes returned to his vessels' original blue. Staring darkly out into the office, he frowned.

There was no time to think of how he'd disappointed Pestilence, he had work to do.

…

Chloe sat at the table, helping the boys fill their guns and ready to pick up the demon Crowley said held the answer they were looking for. She could tell Sam was agitated; he didn't trust Crowley at all and he couldn't understand why Dean _was_. She knew what happened; Dean had told her at length about Jo and Ellen and their loss when they'd been trapped in a town empty of humans but full of demons and hellhounds. Though she didn't know either women, she wasn't about to put her trust in Crowley. From what she'd learned, demons would say or do anything as long as it got them what they wanted.

"Why are we even listening to him, Dean?" Sam frowned. "This is _totally_ insane."

"I don't disagree."

"They why are we going along?" Chloe wondered.

"Because we're low on leads and if this gets us what we need, we'll just have to play ball."

"And if it gets us killed?" Sam asked, brows lifted.

He shrugged. "We'll probably be sent right back."

"Yeah, two out of three, at best," he sighed.

Dean glanced at Chloe and frowned. "Look, nobody's gettin' killed, all right?" He lifted a brow and then rectified, "Well, maybe a demon or dozen, but none of us." He looked between them. "Okay?"

Sam and Chloe exchanged a look, not quite convinced.

Crowley clapped his hands behind them, drawing their attention. "One big happy family are we then? Fantastic."

Dean pursed his lips, lifting his brows. "You ready to go?"

"Yes, yes, I am…" He stepped into the room. "Sam, keep the home fire burning."

Dean looked up, surprised. "What're you talkin' about?"

"Sam's not coming," Crowley said simply.

"And why the hell not?" Sam demanded.

"Because I don't like you…" He stepped toward him, waving a hand in the air. "I don't _trust_ you and… Oh yes, _you_ keep trying to _kill_ me."

"Not without reason," Chloe muttered.

"There's no damn way. This isn't gonna happen!" Sam snarled.

"I'm not asking you, am I? 'Cause you're not invited." He turned a smirk on Dean, pointing at him. "I'm asking _you_. What's it gonna be?"

Sam stared at him and then turned back to Dean, who looked at him and then thinned his eyes determinedly.

Crowley scoffed. "Enjoy your last few sunsets." He turned to walk away.

"Wait," Chloe intervened. "I'll stay here with Sam…"

"What? No," Dean told her, jaw ticking.

"Hey, you're the one who's always saying I should stay behind." She shrugged. "So this time I will."

Circling the table, he took her arm and dragged her away a few feet. "Chloe…"

"Do you believe him?" she asked, staring at him searchingly.

He glanced from her to Sam, who was frowning and then to bored-looking Crowley waiting.

He frowned. "Yeah… I do." He shook his head. "Not that he's given me any good reason."

"Then go," she said, half-smiling. Taking his face in her hands, she stared into his eyes reassuringly. "Sam and I will be here when you get back."

Lips pursed as if he wanted to argue, he told her sternly, "If there's a problem…"

She grinned. "We've got it."

Jaw ticking, he licked the inside of his lip and shook his head. Finally, he bent down and kissed her quick but thoroughly before he cleared his throat and walked back to the table. Grabbing up his bag, full of guns and ammo, Dean shucked it over his shoulder and walked toward Crowley.

"Dean?" Sam argued.

"This is important…" he sighed. "Take care of her."

He frowned, but nodded. "Yeah."

They watched as Dean followed Crowley out the door.

Arms crossed over his chest, Sam glared after them. "He'll be out there _alone_ now, you know?"

"He can handle himself," she assured, tucking her hands in her pockets.

"Yeah?" He scoffed. "And what makes you so sure?"

Turning, she stared up at him. "What makes you so _un_ sure?"

As the tires of the Impala squealed away from the house, Sam walked over and took a seat in front of the fire, dragging out a bottle of whiskey and sitting to brood by himself.

Rolling her eyes, Chloe left him to it, instead walking over to check the leftover guns, making sure they were all locked and loaded for when Crowley's demon came by for his interrogation.

…

Sam knocked back the bottle, glaring down at the floor. "And then…" He sighed. "Dean just walks… Right out the door, with _Crowley_."

On the other line of the phone, Bobby took a drag of his own drink. "And Chloe?"

"She's here, with me… Like my _babysitter_."

He rolled his eyes before sighing, "Well, look Sam… I got no love for demons and _yeah_ , this whole thing is crazy but… I dunno. Maybe after a year of chasin' up zilch maybe it's _time_ to go crazy."

He snorted. "Yeah, maybe…" Dragging in a long breath, he turned his eyes upward thoughtfully. "Hey, Bobby…"

"Yeah?"

"Remember that time you were possessed?"

"Yeah… Rings a bell," he muttered sarcastically.

"When Meg told you to kill Dean, you _didn't_. You took your body back." His eyes moved searchingly.

"Just long enough to _shank_ myself, yeah."

"Well…" He shifted out of his seat to stand. "How'd you _do_ it? I mean how'd you take back the wheel?"

Bobby's eyes narrowed. Leaning forward, he rested his elbow on the desk in front of him. "Why're you askin', Sam?"

Taking a long drag, he smacked his lips. "Say… we can open the cage, great. But then what? W-We just lead the devil to the edge and get him to jump in?"

Chloe looked up from her seat at the table, eyes narrowed as she stared up at the half-drunk Sam in front of her.

He stared down at her, coming to a halt.

"You got me," Bobby replied.

"What if _you guys_ lead the devil to the edge and _I_ jump in," he suggested, speaking as much to Bobby as he was Chloe.

Her eyes widened in knowing.

"Sam," Bobby and she said simultaneously, with her standing from her chair in argument, hand gripping the edge of the table.

"It'll be just like when you turned the knife around on yourself," he said. "One action. Just _one leap!_ "

"Are you idjits tryin' to _kill_ me?" Bobby yelled back through grit teeth.

"Bobby…" He turned his head away.

"We just got done talkin' your brother off the ledge and you're linin' up to say yes?"

"It's not like that." He turned back toward her, eyes searching hers. "I'm not gonna do it. Not unless we _all_ agree. But I think we gotta look at our options."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "This isn't an option, Sam."

"Why not?" he argued, lifting a brow.

"You can't do it! What I did was… a million to one! And that was some piss-ant demon I was brain-wrestlin'. You're talkin' about takin' back control from Satan himself!"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am," he said, unenthused.

Sighing, Bobby shook his head. "Kid… It's called possession for a _reason_. You of all people oughtta know."

His expression firmed, though not even _he_ looked sure. "I'm strong enough."

"You ain't." His brows fell heavy over his eyes. "He's gonna find every _chink_ in your armor, Sam, and use it against ya. Your fear, your grief, your _anger_ and let's face it, you're not exactly Mr. Anger Management. How are you gonna control the devil when you can't control _yourself?_ "

Sam's eyes fell as he sighed.

"I just want you to think about this…"

"I know… And I am."

"I mean _really_ think, Sam. This ain't somethin' you can just walk away from later on."

"I know, Bobby." He closed his eyes, rubbing his brows.

"Okay."

Looking away, they muttered strained goodbyes and hung up.

"Suppose you want to bite my head off now, too," he said with a forced chuckle, looking at Chloe.

Staring up at him, she bit her lip. "Sam… There is _nothing_ I can say that will make any more sense than what Bobby just said."

His brows furrowed with surprise.

Standing, she walked toward him. "So all I'm going to say is this…" She swallowed tightly. "If you do this and it backfires somehow… I'll keep my promise."

His expression softened. "Thank you."

"And if it _doesn't_ backfire…" She grinned slowly. "I get the front seat for a month straight."

He scoffed. "I might stop the apocalypse and you would put me through that discomfort?"

"Hey, you're planning on ditching me in favor of playing Lucifer's much better looking meatsuit."

He rolled his eyes. "You'll have Dean."

"I'll have a distraught, worried, overwhelmed Dean Winchester on my hands…" She cocked a brow. "Now who's suffering?"

He shook his head, sighing under his breath. "Thanks."

"Hey, this doesn't mean I agree with you… Part of me really wants to talk you out of this." She stared up at him seriously. "It just means that I… _support_ you… in whatever you decide to do."

Staring at her a long moment, he finally reached out and dragged her toward him, hugging her tight.

"Oh," she said, surprised, before wrapping her arms around him in a tentative hug.

He didn't smell quite like Dean, and he didn't feel like him either. He rather reminded her of Clark, the big bear hugs of a best friend. He was so tall and wide and muscular that she felt incredibly petite swamped by his frame. But there was something comforting, soothing even, from a Sam Winchester hug. And there was _acceptance_ there, for the first time since the very beginning. And this wasn't just him accepting that she and Dean were pretty much in it for the long haul, but something else, something deeper. As if he was accepting her into _his_ life and not just as an extension of his brother.

"Y'know, married to my brother or not…" he told he quietly. "You're already family."

Eyes warm with appreciative tears, she hugged him tighter. And that, right there, solidified his place in her life just as much as it did her in his. Sniffling, she said, "I've never had a brother."

"You do now," he said with a slight chuckle.

It was worth it then. His disapproval and suspicion in the beginning and his lack of trust. Everything they all went through up until that moment was worth all the pain and sadness just to know that she now had them both. Dean wouldn't turn his back on her and neither would Sam. She closed her eyes tight and did her best not to cry. Because as strong as she'd been, up until that moment, she'd still been met with some suspicion and second-guessing.

And really, she only had one question, "I don't have to join in on the prank wars, do I?"

Laughing, he drew back. "Only if you want to."

She narrowed her eyes, smiling. "Trust me, I am _not_ someone you want to prank or be pranked by."

He grinned. "We'll see."

Stepping back, she motioned to the guns. "You too drunk to help me get these ready?"

"I'm not _drunk_ , I'm buzzed." Swaying slightly he cleared his throat. "Really, _really_ buzzed."

Snorting, she moved all of the sensitive artillery out of his reach.

He grabbed up a .45 and checked the chamber. "I got this."

She cocked a brow. "Just aim _away_."

He rolled his eyes, but listened.

…

Sitting in the Impala, just outside Nevius Pharmaceutical Company, Dean stared into the front office on the first floor through binoculars. "Demons," he decided, watching the people move about.

"Nah, human-shields. The demons are up top. Twelfth floor," Crowley told him.

He looked back, eyed the building and sighed, "All right then. We'll have to find a way in through the back." He frowned, putting his binoculars away.

"You Winchesters have to make everything so complicated," he muttered.

He screwed up his face, glanced away and when he turned back Crowley was gone. "Ah crap." Turning his attention back to the building, he lifted his binoculars quickly, only to see Crowley _inside_ , standing behind an unknowing guard, and waving at him, a knife in hand. Watching as he sliced open the guard's throat, he said, "Oh crap!" Tossing his binoculars away, he struggled to get the door open. "Oh crap! Oh crap!" Racing to the front door, he slammed his hand against it to get Crowley's attention.

"Door's open," the demon called back.

Hurrying inside, he slowed when he saw the now dead bodies of the two guards; one sprawled in a chair while the other lay across the floor. He lifted his arms out from his sides questioningly, staring at Crowley with wide eyes.

Wiping his blade off, he asked, "What?"

Looking down at the guy on the floor, he shook his head, blinking his eyes rapidly as if hoping what he was seeing would change somehow. "You killed them?"

Frowning, Crowley rolled his eyes, tucked his blade away and walked toward him. Stepping over a body, looking irritated it was in his way, he told Dean, "We're on a tight schedule." Dragging him away, he added, "Come on."

Dean looked back, mouth ajar.

" _Now_ you're squeamish? _Please…_ " the demon mocked.

Leading Dean to the elevator, he reached in and pushed the number 12 before standing back, stuffing his hands in his pockets and telling him, "Got get 'em, Tiger."

"Wh-" Reaching out, Dean stopped the elevator door from closing and stared at Crowley questioningly. "You're not coming?"

"No." He shook his head. "It's not safe up there. There's _demons_."

"Yeah." His brows rose for sarcastic emphasis. "I get that."

"Look, just do what I told you…"

Dean stared back at him like he was a moron, his brows pinched.

"And try to be _convincing_ ," Crowley encouraged, waving a hand. "It'll work like a charm." He shoved Dean back into the elevator. "Trust me."

Grinning at him smugly through the elevator window, he wiggled his hand in goodbye and Dean looked up and then shook his head. Taking out the demon-killing knife, he looked it over and sighed. Hell, he knew this wasn't going to turn out well for him.

…

Sam may have been buzzed before, but now she was fairly sure he was somewhere past three sheets to the wind. There wasn't much to do while they waited and apparently he thought drinking would help make the time pass. She disagreed and stayed firmly away from all liquids. This was her first demon interrogation and she didn't want to do anything wrong. Any excitement over the fact had dulled with the hours that passed, however.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Seriously? Something _brown_? All this house _is_ is dilapidated wood and dusty, broken windows."

"Which makes this all the more challenging," Sam replied, leaning back in his chair. "So… I spy something that is _brown_. Go."

Sighing dramatically, she sat back. "The wall."

"Which one?"

"That one," she said, pointing to her left.

"Nope."

"Okay…" She sighed. "The one on my _other_ side."

"Nope."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is it _any_ wall?"

He grinned. "Nope."

"Sam!"

Chuckling, he lifted his shoulders. "Try again."

"The _floor_?"

Still a little tipsy but in a much better mood, Sam shook his head. "Mmm, no."

"Okay…" Stuffing her hands in the pockets of her coat, she looked around. "Is it… the rug?"

"Which rug?"

She pursed her lips. "Is the like the, 'Which walls?' thing?"

He only smiled back.

She rolled her eyes. "Do you even _remember_ what you spied?"

He blinked, head turned to one side.

"Note to self… Sam gets forgetful when drunk."

"Buzzed," he corrected, frowning.

"Fine, buzzed…" Although she didn't agree in the least. "And act's like a six year old."

"I'll have you know…" He lifted a finger to make a point but his brows furrowed. "Never mind."

"You forgot, didn't you?" she asked, smiling knowingly.

He glared back at her. "Sisters suck."

She snorted. "Insightful."

"Bite me."

Shaking her head, she looked around. "Point goes to me since you can't _remember_ what you spied. My turn… I spy with my little eye…" She stared at him thoughtfully. "Something that is… _drunk_."

"Har, har," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Nope. Try again."

He chuckled under his breath. "So is this what you and Dean have been doing all those times I _thought_ you were…" He made a weird motion with his hands, trying and failing to imitate sex.

She cocked a brow. "And I thought that would be the one subject you'd avoid like the plague."

His brows rose high for emphasis. "I'm _chasing_ the plague, remember?"

Turning her eyes up in thought, Pestilence came to mind and she had to shrug agreeably. "Right… Still, it's not like you to bring up my and Dean's sex life—"

"You mean _lack of_ ," he interrupted.

She pursed her lips. "You really want to get into this?"

He blinked, paused a long moment to think it over and then decided, "Mmm… No."

"Good. Back to safer subjects… I spy with my little eye something that is… flickering."

"Fire!" he exclaimed excitably, pointing at it.

"And the six-year-old gets it."

Sticking his tongue out at her, he grabbed up his bottle of liquor, only to find it empty.

"I'm gonna call Dean," she decided. "And tell him to bring a whole lot of coffee back with him."

…

After taking out the demons guarding who he was looking for, Dean looked up to see a pair of double doors open, an unenthused blond man sitting behind a table, staring back at him. "Dean Winchester…" He looked down at the demon dead at his feet. "What? No appointment?" he sneered.

Knife in hand, he stepped over the body and walked into the office, eyes darting suspiciously. "Kinda an eleventh hour thing, y'know…"

"Well then, you're _just_ on time," he said.

Dean turned quickly, startled when the doors behind him closed. He was really starting to _hate_ the powers these assholes had.

"Have a seat," the man told him, waving a finger and turning the chair in his direction. "How's your _brother?_ " he wondered, his eyes set on the laptop in front of him, seeming completely at ease.

Dean tucked his knife away in his shirt and crossed to take a seat.

Looking up the demon in question stared at Dean's serious expression. "Well, down to business then." With a snide smile, he closed the laptop. Clasping his hands on the desk, he leaned forward and asked, "What can I do for you?"

"Actually it's about what I can do for you," Dean replied.

Still mocking, he asked, "Really?"

"Me and Sam dropped two of your _jockeys_ , I think you know that." He smirked.

"Yes! I got the memo."

"Well, we kept their, uh, _secret power rings_ … Which is why I'm here. I heard some folks sayin' that you wanted them _back_. And you were willing to pay?" He screwed his brows up questioningly.

"Hmm." He sat back, lifting a hand to his mouth. "Where are they?"

"Not here. But you want 'em, you come with me, nice and civil. Get outta your little batcave here. Discuss a transaction."

Looking away, he lifted a shoulder and then asked, "Who says I _want_ them?"

Dean stared. "What?"

 _Shit_. The only thing to go through his mind then was that Crowley had fucked him over and somewhere Sam was waiting to say 'I told you so!'

" _Who. Says._ I want them?"

Swallowing tightly, he stumbled, "Y'know…" He shook his head. "Folks."

Smirking, his head cocked, he stared at him darkly.

Dean smiled awkwardly.

"See…" He cleared his throat, readjusting his coat as he sat forward once more. "War and Famine…" He rose from his seat, walking slowly around his table. "Even if I _could_ cram the rings back on their bony fingers, I doubt it would do much good." He sat down at the edge of his desk in front of Dean. "They're withered husks right now, fetal position on the floor. All thanks to _you_ …" He grinned, staring down at him. "So I don't want the rings… What I want is retribution. And I'm gonna _rip_ it _right_ out of _your ass!_ " He grinned at him sadistically and Dean could only stare up, eyes slightly wide with understanding.

Seconds later, he was thrown through the same doors he entered through, lying on the ground in a pained heap.

"This is… _so good…_ " the bastard said behind him.

Managing to get up onto his hands and knees, he struggled to stand, only to have the bastard demon kick him in the stomach.

"Therapeutic for sure. Y'know, _Dean…_ I really owe ya one buddy, 'cause I feel _so_ ," He kicked him hard in the gut again, " _loose_ ," and again and again until he was laid out on his back, cringing. Letting out an appreciative sigh, the demon ran a hand through his hair.

Groaning, Dean rolled onto his side and blinked, trying to get his senses back.

For once, he wished he _hadn't_ been right about how this was going to end up.

…

"You're officially _cut off_ ," Chloe told him, taking the bottle he'd recently found from his reaching hand.

"Hey," Sam whined. "Just one more?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. And for the record, you're depressed _enough_ without adding alcohol to the mix."

"Well you would be too if you were thinking of being Lucifer's personal meatsuit!"

Sighing, she sat down across from him. "There is nothing that says you _have_ to do this. If you're having second thoughts, if you'd rather just put the idea on the backburner for as long as possible, fine. Do that! But beating yourself up and being a miserable _drunk_ is not helping the situation."

"Can't I have just _one night_ of melancholy?" he sighed.

Reaching out, she took his hand and squeezed. "Sam… I'm not even sure we have one _hour_ to sacrifice right now. So, look…" She frowned apologetically. "I can't write all these demon symbols on my lonesome and I'd rather you keep an eye on me to make sure I don't screw up something vital and let the guy get free because of my newbie status…" She lifted a brow. "Think you can supervise me, Big Guy?"

He sighed, shoulders slouching, but then nodded. Standing, he swayed a bit. "Hey Chloe?"

"Yeah?"

"I lied."

Her brows furrowed. "About what?"

"I'm not buzzed…" He shook his head swiftly. "I'm really, _really_ drunk."

She snorted. "I know."

"Hey Chloe?" he repeated.

She smiled. "Yes?"

"I spy something really…" He burped, his face screwing up.

"You're gonna puke, aren't you?"

He nodded. "Just a _lot…_ " Running past her, he hurried toward the bathroom.

Sighing, Chloe rolled her eyes. And the night just got interesting… in a really unfortunate way.

…

Managing to get to the elevator, Dean jammed his hand against the button to get it to open.

"Dean…!" the demon exclaimed. "Dean, come on now… Where ya goin'?"

Bleeding from his head and mouth, he hit the button to get back down to the first floor and leaned back against the wall, taking a long, deep breath. His ribs were aching and he winced as he crossed the elevator, reaching for the side-railing to help himself stand straight. As the bell dinged and the door opened, he stepped out warily, eyes darting, suspicious of where the demon might be hiding. Stepping out a few feet, he looked side to side, unaware of the demon at his back. Slamming his fist into Dean's shoulder he set him flying.

Teeth clenched, Dean slid across the floor, rolling onto his side and struggling to get up.

"Good meeting, Dean, y'know? I'm _excited!_ "

Dean looked up, eyes wide, and watched as a brown bag was thrown over the demon's head, a devil's trap painted on the face of it. Crowley slammed a crowbar hard against the demon's head and knocked him to his knees. "Evening Uncle," he said before drawing his arm up and bringing the crowbar down on the demon once, twice, _seven_ times, until he was laid out on the ground, facedown, bleeding from his head.

Staring at him, Dean sat up.

Crowley grinned back at him.

Standing, he said, "What the hell was that?"

" _That_ was perfect."

He glared back, brows furrowed. "Perfect?" His breath strained with anger. "He didn't want the _rings_ , he wanted _me!_ "

Crowley waved the crowbar knowingly. "Imagine the surprise on your face."

"What?" His brows screwed up.

"Your ignorance and misinformation; I mean it's completely authentic." He shrugged. "You can't _fake_ that."

Dean's jaw clenched.

" _What?_ It went like clockwork."

"Not for _me_ , you sonuvabitch!"

His brows rose, uncaring. "That's what you _get_ ," he said, waving his crowbar at him, "workin' with a demon." He smiled in a what-can-you-do fashion and shrugged.

Dean thought he might just let his brother gank the ass when this was all over.

…

Chloe knocked on the bathroom door. "Sam…? How ya feeling?"

"Like _crap_ …" he moaned, voice sounding hollow thanks to the room acting as an echo chamber. "Crap that's been run over…"

She frowned in sympathy. "I can ask Dean to bring some ginger ale." She muttered to herself, "If he ever picks up…" before saying louder, "It might settle your stomach."

He sighed. "I feel like a four year old, whining to mom."

Smiling to herself, she shook her head. "Is it so bad to let someone else take care of you?"

"No, but Dean might _kill_ me." Groaning, he muttered, "Which I might appreciate right about now."

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't know you were such a _light weight_."

He scoffed. "I'm not… I drank too fast… and I haven't eaten in awhile… And leave me alone!"

She snorted. "Baby."

"I heard that!"

"You were _supposed_ to."

"I thought you were being _nice_ to me…" he pouted.

"I was… 'Til you played the Dean-is-jealous card."

"He _is!_ "

"Do you want a ginger-ale of not?" she sighed.

He mumbled something.

"Well?"

" _Yes_ … And some crackers."

"You want chicken noodle soup, too, Little Man?" she teased.

"I'm never drinking again…" he groaned.

"Mmhmm."

Rolling her eyes, she stepped back from the door and dialed Dean's cell.

…

Wiping the blood from his face, Dean screwed up his face, eyes darting from the road to the rearview mirror where he watched as Crowley carved a sigil into the demon's chest.

"Hey, _Hot Stuff_ , watch the upholstery," he told him, frowning.

"Up yours, mate," he replied simply. "This bear carving'll tie our friend here down. No zapping off, no smokin' out, _locked_ in the meatsuit. An important piece of our bargaining strategy."

Dean stared back at him.

"Now, up here," He motioned to the highway ahead of them, "We don't want I-50. Take 93 North."

His brows cocked. "What're you talkin' about?"

"Look, we can't take this guy back to your brother."

He glanced back at him. "Why the hell not?"

Crowley refused to reply.

"Crowley!" Dean growled impatiently.

"They've got history." His brows rose. "All right?"

Pursing his lips, Dean hit the break and forced the Impala to a jarring stop. Arm tossed over the seat, he turned back. "You wanna go anywhere, you start talkin'."

He stared back at him.

" _What history?_ " he demanded.

…

An hour later, Dean's cell rang. Noticing Chloe's number, his jaw ticked. Chest blooming with automatic worry, he flipped his phone open and asked, "You okay?"

"Fine," she replied, in a voice that said he worried too much. "Look, I don't know how close or far you are, but could you pick up a few things?"

His brows furrowed. "Like _what?_ " He paused warily. "I don't have to make a tampon run, do I? 'Cause you should just get Sammy to do that."

She snorted. "No, Dean… There are no tampons involved. And Sam is… slightly incapacitated."

Immediately, the worst of scenarios started running through his mind. Whether it was a set-up and Crowley's place had been hit, his brother hurt and Chloe in trouble. " _What?_ "

"He's not feeling well… As in, could you pick up ginger-ale for him, please?"

He rolled his eyes upward, almost laughing at how non-life-threatening the situation was. "You're serious?"

"And _crackers!_ " Sam's voice called out in the background.

"Oh, yeah, and some crackers."

"Chloe…" he sighed.

"You do this and you don't have to buy me tampons for a year," she offered. "I won't even mention the _word_ tampons."

He frowned, considering it. "Fine…"

"Thank you," she said brightly. "So? How close are you?"

"Close." He glanced back at Crowley sitting next to the still unconscious demon. "Listen, I want you to be prepared…"

"For what?" Her voice had thickened with seriousness.

"This demon that's coming with… He and Sam have history and… It could get hairy."

"What _kind_ of history?"

Dragging a hand down his face, he sighed. "The real bad kind."

Somehow, he knew she was chewing her lip. Heat flooded down his back and spread like stroking fingers. Suddenly, he wanted to be there, to see her, to reach out and soothe his thumb across her mouth.

"Dean?"

"Huh?" He blinked rapidly. "Uh, what?"

She chuckled lightly. "Try to pay attention…"

He shifted in his seat. "'m all ears."

"You've got this demon under control, right?" she worried, lowering her voice. "He's not… He won't be able to _hurt_ Sam, will he?"

"No, no…" He sighed thickly. "It's Sam killin' the demon I'm worried about."

She scoffed. "Right now, he couldn't wrestle a teddy bear."

"I _heard_ that!" Sam whined in the background.

"Go lay back down!"

"Yes, _mother_ …"

"He is _so_ crabby when he's not feeling well," she muttered.

Dean found himself grinning. "All right, we should be there in a few hours, maybe more thanks to Sammy's stomach issues."

"'Kay. I'll see you then. Love you."

"Love you, too." Hanging up, he dropped his cell to the side and caught Crowley's amused expression. "What?" he growled, glaring.

"The missus send you out for some milk?" he mocked.

Rolling his eyes, he pressed down on the gas pedal a little harder.

The sooner this was over with, the sooner he could get away from Crowley's smug face.


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXIX.**

Sam was feeling a little better when he heard the car pull into the drive. Chloe had kept a close eye on him, not letting him drink anymore and after dispelling the contents of his stomach until there was nothing left he had little to do but wait in discomfort. Sitting on a dusty bed, his feet up and his head back, he listened closely as the doors to the Impala opened and closed. He heard the door downstairs creak as Chloe left outside and Sam walked to the window, looking out through the shades to see Chloe and Dean meet next to the Impala. Smiling up at him, she reached out, hands tangling in his shirt. Holding her hip with one hand, he held up a grocery bag in the other. Nodding appreciatively, she lifted up on her tip-toes to kiss him. Meeting her half-way, Dean dragged her closer for a lingering embrace.

For a moment, he was jealous. Not because he had feelings for Chloe in anyway that resembled more than friendship, or more accurately _family_ , but because he didn't have that. Every time he _tried_ to have what Dean had, the woman he cared for either died or turned against him. Except in the cases of Sarah and Lori, but they were likely off living their normal lives somewhere, forgetting all about him and his weird life.

He knew his brother didn't have it easy; even if he did, he'd probably make it difficult somehow. But in this one case, when it came to having the kind of love that could keep him balanced and happy and hopeful, Dean had really lucked out. And much as Sam didn't want to, he envied his brother then.

Seeing the demon being brought inside, however, he turned his attention to more important and life-threatening issues. He left the room to climb down the stairs, finding Crowley in the front foyer.

"Now," he greeted, staring at Sam, unenthused. "For the record, I'm against this. Negotiating a high-level defection, it's…" His brows rose for emphasis, " _very_ delicate business."

Sam glared back. Slightly sick to his stomach or not, he felt no trust whatsoever toward or from Crowley. Trying to walk past him, he drew back, jaw ticking, when Crowley stepped in his way. "What're you _talkin'_ about?" he demanded.

"I begged Dean not to come back," he admitted. "We should be miles away… from _you_. He replied with a colorful rejoinder about my _corn-shute._ "

Sam couldn't help a slight chuckle, proud of his big brother.

Eyes narrowed, Crowley frowned. "So… Go ahead. _Go!_ Ruin our last, best hope."

Looking him up and down, Sam walked past him.

"It's only the end of the world…"

Stepping into the room, Sam found Dean tying the demon's hands behind a chair. Chloe stood off to the side, leaned back against a wall, looking worried as she chewed her lip.

Chair centered atop the red sigil he and Chloe had written beneath it and slumped forward, the demon wore a bag atop its head that shielded his identity.

"Sam…" Dean said, stepping out from behind him.

"What's goin' on, Dean?" His eyes darted from his brother to Chloe.

"I need you to stay on mission." He waved a hand firmly. "Okay? _Focused_."

"I don't understand…" His face folded in confusion. "What's this all about?"

"We're doin' this 'cause I trust you," Dean told him, brows raised seriously.

The demon groaned, lifting his head.

"Trust me to _what?_ "

"Sam?" the demon asked. He cleared his throat. "Sam, is that you?"

Dean glanced back at him, a look that said to keep his cool and walked over to drag the bag of the demon's head.

Beat up and bleeding, the demon blinked his eyes at the sudden flood of light.

Sam's brows furrowed. " _Brady?_ "

He grinned darkly, looking up at him. "Brady hasn't been _Brady_ in _years.._. Not since, _oh…_ Middle of our sophomore year?" He cocked a brow.

" _What?_ " he exclaimed.

"That's right. Ya had a devil on your shoulder even back then."

Sam looked around, searching for understanding, his chest pounding, his eyes wide. His years in college flashed before his eyes; parties, studying, regular days he'd once longed for desperately. And this man, this smug _bastard_ , had played such a _pivotal_ part in the whole experience.

"All right now, let it _all_ sink in."

"You sonuvabitch," he breathed, face screwed up in rage. "You sonuvabitch!" He walked forward, jabbing a finger at him. "You introduced me to _Jess!_ "

"Ding, ding, I think he's got it!"

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed, shoving him back before he could attack. "Damn it, Sam!"

"I'm gonna kill you," Sam growled at Brady.

Grabbing him by his shoulder, Dean hauled him out of the room to the sound of Brady's laughter.

As Sam ran forward to try and shove past him, Dean pushed him back by his chest. "Hey!" He pointed. "That's enough!"

"Get outta my way," Sam demanded.

"No."

He lifted a hand, waving it heavily at him. He was so desperate to get back in there he felt the urge to take a swing at him, but reigned it in. "Get outta my way, Dean."

"There is only one way to win," he argued, "and it ain't by killin' that thing in there."

Crowley walked forward, lifting a brow in Sam's direction. "Well… Sounds like you got 'im nice and fluffed," he mocked. "Thanks so much." Turning, he walked toward the room where Brady sat.

"Listen to me," Dean said, looking up at his brother. "We need Pestilence to get at the devil and we need _Brady_ to get to Pestilence."

" _Why?_ Because _Crowley_ said so?" He waved a hand, frowning, unconvinced. "Because we _trust_ him now? Like I trusted _Ruby?_ Or like I trusted _Brady_ back at school?"

Dean stared back, not sure what to say.

Fingers running back through his hair, he pressed his palms against his temples and wanted to scream, to yell and holler until the feelings inside him were abated. But he didn't, instead he let the simmer.

…

Crowley turned a seat around and straddled it, sitting across from the bound Brady.

Still leaning against the wall, Chloe watched from afar, silently.

"Look," Crowley opened, "Do the math yourself… If Lucifer wins, he'll turn this place into his kingdom. When the Morning Star cleans house, we all get the mop."

"He _created_ us," Brady argued stoutly. " _Why_ would he destroy us? That makes _no sense_."

"Look at who— at _what_ he is." Crowley stared at him. "And then take a look at what _we_ are."

Brady licked his lips, unconvinced. "Maybe you should be a little less worried about _our_ necks and a little _more_ worried about _yours_."

"Has crossed my mind, but it's not really the point."

"Actually, Crowley, that _is_ the point. _No one_ will know greater torment than you," he assured smugly. " _Lucifer_ is never gonna let you die… As for me, I know the score, I'm dead whether I tell you anything or _not_. So I think I'll die on the _winning_ side, _thanks_."

Eyes narrowed, he replied, "Good talk," and rose from his seat. "Cheers." Turning, he walked away.

Watching him go, Brady rolled his eyes. When the doors closed, he turned his head. "Anything from your corner, Blondie?"

Stepping out from the wall, she walked around to look at him, tipping her head and staring at him.

"Chloe Sullivan, right?" he asked, mouth curling in a smirk.

Her eyes flashed but her expression didn't change, unmoved.

"Soul mate of one Dean Winchester." He laughed. "You know… I bet my superiors would really like to have a gem like you on their side."

She tucked her hands into her jean pockets and simply lifted a brow.

"We've got great benefits…" he offered mockingly.

"I hope medical is one of them…" She grinned sarcastically. "You're gonna need it."

Turning on her heel, she walked away, not bothering to look back and see Brady's scowl.

…

Dean looked up as Crowley left the room and found him sitting in an old, beat-up armchair. His brows lifted questioningly. "Well how'd it go?" he asked, lifting a beer to his mouth. "He buy your Girl Scout cookies?"

"Not yet." He looked around. "Where's your moose?"

Lips pursed, he glanced away. "He's coolin' off," he muttered, taking a drag of his drink.

Crowley lifted a shoulder. "All right then. Get bent." He turned to walk away.

Dean looked up, brows lifted. "You goin' somewhere?"

"Well, he won't budge." He motioned behind him. "So now I go stick my neck out."

Face screwed up, Dean leaned forward. "What're you gonna do?"

"Exactly the kind of desperate swashbuckle I've been trying to avoid." He shook his head slowly. "Now, I go kick open a hive of demons." He turned once more, paused, and then added, "This whole bloody ring business better work."

Looking down, he shook his head, and when he raised his eyes once more Crowley was gone. He looked around in surprise, frowning.

Chloe stepped out of the room and he sighed irritably. "What the hell were you still doin' in there?"

"Spying, eavesdropping," she replied simply. "Call it what you will."

"And?" He lifted a shoulder. "You get anything?"

She smiled, crossing the room and sliding into his lap.

Leaning back in the chair, he wrapped an arm around her waist, tipping his head so he could see her.

Playing absently with the buttons on his shirt, she shared, "So far I've learned that Brady is a serious asshole who's very dedicated to his side of the war and doesn't think he has anything to lose so there's no reason for him to play ball." She pursed her lips. "That and he _seriously_ reminds me of guy I knew in high school." Brows furrowed, she looked away.

"You date him?"

"Who?"

He rolled his eyes. "The guy in high school."

She snorted. "Whitney? No." Shaking her head, she said, "Not only was he the jerk of all football players, but he was head-over-cleats for Lana…" Sighing, she leaned back. "Not my type, anyway."

He grinned slowly, arrogantly satisfied. "No?"

"No, back then I liked sweet, innocent farm boys," she teased.

He scowled back at her.

Chuckling, she ran her fingers through his hair, pausing as she hit a sensitive spot where he winced. "Just how bad did you get your ass kicked?"

Glaring up at her, he tipped the beer in her direction. "You take care of Sammy for a stomach ache but you make fun of when I stick my neck out?"

"You willingly _chose_ to walk into the lion's den," she reminded, gently stroking her fingers though his hair like she often did. "Sam was left behind, feeling down, drank too much and suffered the consequences." She shrugged.

"Yeah, well, I could still use some coddling, so…" He waved a finger around. "Get to it."

Laughing under her breath, she shook her head. "Come on…" Standing from his lap, she reached back for his hand. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Brows wiggling, he stood and followed her. "Do we have to wear _clothes_ while we clean up?"

Chloe only shook her head, amused with him.

Standing in the bathroom, she turned the taps on the sink and let the water warm. "Sit down," she told him.

"Yes ma'am," he mocked before tossing the cover down on the toilet and taking a seat.

Standing between the part of his legs, she stepped close to examine the cut atop his head. "It's not too bad…" She chewed her lip. "You hurt anywhere else?"

"Just from my head to my toes…" He licked the inside of his lip and wrinkled his nose. "Everything tastes like blood."

Frowning, she leaned down and cupping his face, she slanted her mouth across his. Threading her fingers through his hair, careful not to touch where she knew he was hurt, she stroked her tongue along his slow and purposeful. Shoulders slumping, he moaned low in his throat. Hands grabbing her hips, his fingers dug in and drew her closer.

After a few more lingering pecks, she asked, "How 'bout now?"

"Mm." He shook his head. "Keep going."

She chuckled, but kissed him again nonetheless.

However, as the door shut behind them and they heard a chair being dragged over and shoved beneath, Dean stood up abruptly. "Sam…" he cursed. Banging on the door with his fist, he yelled, "Sam, come on!" Trying the handle, he growled, "Hey! Open the door!" Still receiving no answer, he backed up to use his shoulder.

"Are you sure you're feeling well enough to—"

He did it anyway, only to stumble back and curse under his breath.

Chloe pursed her lips so she didn't offend him.

He glared back at her as if he knew she was trying not to laugh.

She shrugged.

Wasn't her fault he pulled the he-man trip when he was too beat up to give it much effort.

…

Sam, demon killing knife in hand, left Dean and Chloe locked in the bathroom and walked silently back to the room where Brady sat tied to a chair.

Knowing it was him, Brady sighed, "Well, here we go." He cocked his head, mocking, "We doin' last words or no?"

"Sophomore year, huh?" Brows dark over his eyes, Sam stepped up to stand before him.

The demon cleared his throat. "Brady here, he was a good kid. Straight out, I mean your best friend, really. _Perfect_ point of access."

He stared at him, needing answers and wanting blood. "Thanksgiving."

"Yessir! Remember when I came back from break all messed up?" He shook his head, feigning sadness. "Dropped outta pre-med, the drugs, the bitches…" He grinned.

Sam nodded, smiling sarcastically at his lack of foresight then.

"That was a new Brady, that was _me_. Remember _how much_ time you spent tryin' to get me back on the right track? You really were a good friend."

He pursed his lips, anger making his eyes darken, brows falling heavy as he struggled not to attack.

"But old Yellow Eyes didn't send me back to be your _friend_ , no. We could tell we were starting to _lose_ you. You were becoming a _mild-mannered_ worthless sack of _piss!_ Now come on, we couldn't have _that!_ " He grinned. "You were our _favorite_."

Sam took a deep breath, his shoulders lifting high.

"So I hooked you up with a pure, sweet, _innocent_ piece of tail… And then I toasted her on the ceiling." His lips curled in a sadistic smile.

Sam turned his eyes away and then closed them, his feet bouncing as he tried to keep himself in check, his hand clenching tight around the knife.

"That's right, Azazel might'a put the hit out on Jessica but _man, I_ got to have all the fun!" He laughed lightly. "Y'know, she thought we were friends, too," he sobered. "Let me write it… She was baking cookies, she was so _surprised_ ," he chuckled.

Nostrils flaring, rage consuming, Sam stared at him.

"So _hurt_ when I started it on her."

He lunged, grabbing him by the throat and holding the blade against his throat.

"Come on! Do it if it'll make ya feel better!" Brady encouraged.

He sliced into his skin, making it smoke and flicker with flames.

"Do it, Sammy! Do it!" he told him, teeth clenched with excitement. "Do it, come on!"

Sam pulled back, anger beginning to dull.

"No? Not even if I tell you your sweet sister-in-law will be next?" He grinned up at him, eyes flashing as Sam looked surprised. "What? You think we didn't _know_ about that? Come on now, Sam… Y'think we'd overlook the fact that big brother is tryin' to settle down for happily ever after?" He laughed, mouth ajar with crazed satisfaction. "She is going to scream and cry and I'll bathe in her blood while she _burns!_ Just… Like… _Jess_ …"

Sam swallowed thickly, not saying a word, and left the room.

Behind him, Brady laughed manically before finally sighing, as if bored with the whole thing.

…

"I go outta my damn way to get him _ginger-ale_ and he lock me in the friggin' closet!" Dean muttered, slapping the door.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "You have to admit, if you were in his shoes…" She lifted her brows for emphasis.

He sighed. "I don't wanna relate to him, okay? I wanna be pissed." He kicked the door irritably. "Sonuvabitch," he muttered, pacing.

"Just _trust_ him," she told him, sitting back against the toilet, legs folded beneath her.

"Trust him? Chlo, he just locked us in the bathroom so he could gank his college buddy!" He shook his head at her, eyes wide.

"He wanted _answers_ , Dean." She lifted a shoulder, completely at ease. "And not about Pestilence."

"It couldn't _wait?_ "

"Would _you_?" she shot back.

He frowned at her and then turned, banging on the door again. "Damn it, Sam! Open the door!"

"Hey-hey-hey, okay, all right," Sam's voice replied from the other side. "I'm gonna open it." Sliding the chair out of the way, he swung the door open and blew out a heavy breath.

Stomping past him, Dean glared. "What happened?"

Hopping off the toilet seat, Chloe followed after them.

"Nothing."

"My ass!"

He sighed. "Dean, I'm fine."

"Yeah? And what about Brady?"

He cleared his throat. "Like you said… We need him."

Dean stopped short as he spotted the smug demon still sitting in his chair, very much alive. Brady smiled unenthusiastically back at them.

"God, day I've had," Crowley's voice interrupted, drawing Dean and Sam's attention who turned abruptly to see him standing next to Chloe. He raised his brows at them and then walked past to join Brady. "Good news," he called out in greeting. He pointed at him. "You're going to live forever," he said with a slight laugh.

His eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"

Circling him, hands tucked in his pockets casually, he replied, "Went over to a demon's nest, had a little _massacre_ … Must be losin' my touch though, let one of the little toads live." He came to a stop in front of him. " _Oops_." He smiled. "Also, might've given _said_ toad the impression that you left your _post_ last night because you and I are…" He lifted a finger and cocked his head, "Wait for it… Lovers in League Against Satan." He chuckled.

Chloe snorted.

Brady rolled his eyes upward, shoulders slumping. Groaning, he flicked his eyes open to glare at Crowley.

"Hello darling," he said mockingly. "So, now, death is off the table. Now you get to be on the boss's eternal torment list."

Shifting, Brady began to struggle against his bindings.

"With little old me."

"Oh, no, no, _no_ …" he growled, shaking his head.

"Something else we have in common, apart from our torrid passion, of course, craving self-preservation."

Brady glared back at him, sneering.

"So, now," His eyes flashed with satisfaction, "why don't you tell me where Pestilence is at?"

Just as Brady was about to reply to his demand, howling could be heard from afar and everyone in the room began looking around, eyes wide.

"Oh God, Crowley," Brady muttered, looking worried for the first time.

Dean lifted a hand questioningly. "Was that a hellhound?"

"I'd say yeah..."

His brows furrowed, expression stricken. "Why was that a hellhound?"

Crowley reached into his jacket sleeve and sighed, pulling out a small coin.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"Remember I was tellin' you about my crafty little tracking device?"

He stared warily. "Yeah?"

"Demons planted one on me."

Dean stared back with wide eyes and his mouth ajar.

"You're saying a hell hound _followed_ you here?" Sam demanded.

"Well, actually, technically he followed this," he said, nodding toward the coin in his fingers.

"Get me outta here I'll tell you anything you want," Brady shouted.

"Shut up," Sam told him.

"Okay, then we should go," Dean said hurriedly.

"Sorry boy, nobody knows more about the hounds than I. You're long past the point of car."

He flicked the coin up into the air and Dean caught it automatically. When they looked up Crowley was gone.

"Damn it," Dean muttered.

"I _told_ you!" Sam exclaimed.

"Oh, well, good _for you_ ," he sneered back, rolling his eyes. "Luckily we have salt in the kitchen." He walked away, pausing and then reached back and grabbed Chloe's hand to drag her along with him.

"I'll watch Brady," he called after him.

" _Watch_ _me?_ " He snickered. "Get me. The _Hell_. Outta here!"

…

"Exactly _how_ does salt keep hellhounds _away?_ " Chloe wondered, following after him as he hurried toward the kitchen.

"I dunno, it's pure or somethin'." His eyes darted around in panic. "I just know it works." He saw it sitting there at the edge of a counter and quickened his steps.

"Not a cross-country runner," she argued.

"Trust me, when they're at your heels, you'll run faster than you thought you _could_."

They'd hardly made it through the entry before a window shattered and an invisible hellhound leapt through, landing hard on the table and struggling to get up.

"Shit," Dean cursed, turning around and shoving her in front of him while yelling, "Move, move, move."

Pausing to close the doors, hoping it might distract them for a few seconds, he turned and grabbed up a shotgun sitting on the table. "Anything happens to me, you run, okay?"

She stared back stubbornly.

The hellhound jumped right through the glass doors and rushed him.

Cocking the gun, Dean shot; hitting it once, twice, three times, and it whimpered.

With Chloe at his back, he hurried backwards into the room, cocking the gun and getting another shot off. "Sammy!" he yelled.

"Salt?" Sam asked, looking up from where he was hurrying to untie Brady's hands.

Dean glanced at him, his expression firm.

"We were intercepted," Chloe said, staring past Dean's shoulder.

A loud, vicious growl sounded.

"Damn it, get me outta here," Brady exclaimed.

"Shut up!" Dean told him.

"Great, just great…" he sighed.

Dean cocked the gun, backing up until Chloe was safely shrouded in a corner.

"Hey!" Crowley's voice interrupted.

Looking up, surprised, he said, "You're back?"

"I'm invested," he said simply. "Currently."

The hellhound barked at him.

"Stay!" Crowley demanded.

Brows furrowed, he exclaimed, "You can control them?"

"Not that one," he said, pointing. He patted an invisible head that seemed nearly to his shoulders. "I brought my own."

Dean's brows lifted in surprise.

"Handy," Chloe muttered.

"Mine's bigger." Crowley smirked smugly. "Sic 'em, boy!" he ordered loudly.

Nails scored the floors as it ran forward and soon pained whimpering could be heard as the two hellhounds battled it out, furniture crashing all around.

Taking Chloe's hand, Dean rushed toward Sam and Brady, taking advantage of the distraction. Bending down he scraped the red symbol open so Brady could step away from the chair. Just as they were running out of the room, the hellhounds burst through the side wall and slammed into the opposite one before escaping out a window and taking the fight outside.

"Go, go, go," Dean said as they all ran toward the Impala.

He shoved Chloe into the front seat and shut the passenger's door as soon as Brady jumped inside. Crowley stood just beside Sam on the other side of the car. "I'll wager a thousand _my_ pup wins." He laughed.

Rolling their eyes, Dean and Sam climbed inside the car, squishing Chloe into the middle.

Revving the engine, they took off from the old ramshackle house and the fighting hellhounds in the outlying fields.

"Think I just became a cat person," Chloe muttered, staring back.

Shaking his head at her, Sam snorted, a smile cracking his face.

…

Standing just outside a grocery store, in a dark alleyway, Brady frowned. "Yeah, I'm sure Pestilence will be there, thanks," he said, handing a piece of paper to Crowley, who then walked toward Dean.

"What d'ya think?" Dean asked him.

"It's good," he said, forking over the paper. Looking back over his shoulder, he cocked a brow. "Ya got no reason to lie, have you?"

Forehead wrinkled, he smiled humorlessly.

"Like I said before, you're in my boat now."

"You've screwed me… for _eternity!_ " Brady exclaimed.

"Nah… Won't last that long. Trust me."

Crowley and Dean turned and walked away, passing a dark and vengeful looking Sam who glared at him from down the alley.

"Where are you going?" Brady called after him.

Crowley stopped, looked back at him. "I'm _going_ to do you a favor." He turned his head up toward Sam. "I expect we'll be in touch."

Behind him, Dean shook salt out in a line to keep Brady from crossing. Crowley paused, looked down and stepped across where the line was unfinished.

As he left, Dean dropped the salt container to the ground and turned around. This time, he didn't bother telling Chloe to go wait in the car. Instead, she stood just to Sam's left.

"What _is_ this?" Brady asked.

"All those angels, all those demons, all those sonsuvbitches, they just don't get it, do they, Sammy?"

He shook his head. "No, they don't, Dean."

"You see, Brady, we're the ones you should be afraid of…"

He scoffed, looking away.

Sam lifted the knife, bending his knees and angling his free arm, readying himself for an attack.

"I bet this is a real moment for you, Big Boy…" Brady mocked. "It'll make you feel all better?" He cocked his head wonderingly.

"It's a start," Sam sneered, advancing toward him.

"Gonna make up for all the times that we yanked your chain?" He walked backwards slowly, smiling. "Yellow Eyes, Ruby, _me_ … Wasn't all our fault, was it? No, no, no, no… _You're_ the one who trusted us. You're the one who let us into your life. Let us whisper in your ear, over and over and over again." He grinned, his back hitting the wall behind him. "Ever wonder why that is, Sammy? Ever wonder why we were _so_ in your blind spot? _Maybe_ it's cause we got the same stuff in our veins… And deep down, _you_ know, you're just like _us_." He grinned and slowly it morphed into a sinister expression before he gave a shout and lunged toward him.

Sam didn't budge, instead slicing his knife through Brady's forearm and then drawing it up with a yank across his gut.

Turning, Brady fell against the brick wall, panting against it, his hands trying to hold him. Growling, he breathed heavily, and turned back toward him, face twisted savagely. " _Maybe_ you hate us so much because _you_ hate every time you look in the mirror. _You ever think of that?_ "

Sam stared, eyes narrowed.

Laughing, Brady shook his head. "Maybe the only difference between _you_ and a _demon_ is your hell is right here."

Sam rushed him, plunging the knife deep into Brady's chest, smiling in satisfaction as it sparked and Brady's head fell back, a gasp of pain falling from his mouth. Struggling, he gasped for air, his face screwed up in pain, and Sam watched, smiling cruelly before slowly dragging the knife out and letting him fall to the dirty ground, slumped with death.

Panting to himself, Sam simply stared down at him and said, "Interesting theory."

From afar, Dean pursed his lips and Chloe crossed toward him, taking and squeezing his hands in hers.

Turning, Sam walked away and past them, shrugging off Chloe's hand when she reached out toward him.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Dean drew her close, resting his chin on her head and taking comfort in her, even as he watched his brother walk away, from the dead man he once called his best friend.

…

Back at his home in Sioux Falls, Bobby sighed into the phone. "Yeah, I followed up… Nasty omens, but none of it's death with a capital D." He paused, listening to the man on the other end of the line and then frowned. "Well, just gimme a ring if it turns into anything… And Rufus," His eyes thinned, "You watch your ass out there." Lowering the phone, he pressed the end button.

"Chin up," Crowley interrupted, standing unnoticed in the kitchen. "Cavalry's arrived."

Spinning his wheelchair around, Bobby drew the Colt up, cocked it and aimed.

"Charming," Crowley replied, lifting his brows. He shook his head. "That won't work on me."

Bobby cocked his head questioningly.

"Name's Crowley," he introduced himself. "Maybe you've, uh…" He waved his finger around.

" _You're_ Crowley," Bobby said, looking him up and down.

"In the flesh…" He glanced down at himself, motioning. "Of a moderately successful literary agent out of New York."

Bobby squeezed the trigger, hitting Crowley square in the heart.

Crying out, he muttered, "So you have heard of me…" He pointed at himself. "I like this suit."

"What're you doin' here?" he demanded.

"Looking out for Crowley."

"Meaning?"

His eyes narrowed, lips pursing. "The Three Amigos are onto ring number three but we still need number four."

Bobby dropped the gun to his lap, listening.

"I'm here to help."

Wheeling himself into the doorway of the kitchen, Bobby stared up at him. "You _know_ where Death is?"

He lifted his chin and after exchange of stares, he admitted, "No. Haven't the foggiest."

Bobby reached to the side and pulled out a shotgun. "Well then get the hell of my property before I blast you so full of rocksalt you'll crap margaritas," he growled.

"That's a mite unfriendly." Crowley held up a soothing hand. "Seeing as I _could_ be getting you Death's location in about the time it'd take you to reload."

"You're just gonna _chat_ some demons up and hope they don't recognize ya?" he asked, unconvinced.

"God, no… That could get me _killed_." He rocked back and forth on his heels. "But there is this… little spell that I know."

He cocked a brow, frowning. "That so?"

"It's all a hundred percent guaranteed."

"'Kay, then why're you _snake-oilin'_ me?"

He took a breath, walking toward him. "Well, it's a little bit—" He stopped as Bobby lifted the shotgun warningly. "Embarrassing," he finished, snickering under his breath. "There's this…" He waved a hand, "technicality."

"Uh-huh," he drawled.

"I need a little something to get the magic going," he explained.

"And what's that?"

"You make a wish… I can give you anything you want, mate. Up to and including Death's coordinates. All I need is…" His brows raised.

"My _soul_ …" Bobby growled.

"Can't take the Wonder Twins', so it's either you or the girl's, and I'll be honest… I think they'd kill me before they heard me out on that one."

He cocked his gun, snarling, "You leave her outta this, ya hear me? You don't even _look_ at her funny."

He rolled his eyes. "Then the options are down to one here, mate. _You_." He smirked. "I've done more with less… Let's just say when they're getting their Grammy's they shouldn't _all_ be thanking God." He stared down at him, lifting a brow imploringly, "It's worth it, Bobby… _Think._ "

Bobby took a deep breath, stared at him, and finally said, "Okay…"

Crowley grinned.

"Here's my counter."

He pulled the trigger and a blast of buckshot hit Crowley so hard it threw him to the floor, in a mess against the counter.

"Ow!" he yelled. "Bloody hell…"

Dropping his shotgun, Bobby turned to wheel away but as he turned around, Crowley was sitting atop his desk.

"Feisty," Crowley muttered.

Gun back in hand, he told him, "Get out."

"I'll give it right back," he assured, tucking his hands away in his pockets.

He scoffed. "You think I'm a natural born idjit?"

"Quite the contrary." His chin fell. "Look, you're right to be suspicious but I'm your ally. Enemy of my enemy and all that… I need the devil back in his stock. Fact…" He cocked his head seriously, "My delicate ass _depends_ on it." He frowned, staring, waiting. "I promise you. Temporary loan. I'll give it… right… back."

Instead of shooting him again, like he wanted to, Bobby realized… He had a very tough decision to make.


	31. Chapter Thirty

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXX.**

With all that had happened, the drive back to Bobby's had to be interrupted by a night at a motel. Everybody was bone-tired and had too much on their minds to stay cooped up in the Impala for the long haul to Sioux Falls. Sam hadn't said a thing since he offed Brady, instead staring out the window in silent thought. Dean didn't even bother turning up Metallica to vent, instead he brooded, not sure if he was supposed to support Sam or not. Brady deserved what he got, but that didn't mean Sam hadn't acted less like the little brother Dean knew and more like the dark killer so many said he was meant to be.

When the sign for a motel came into view, he decided they all needed to sleep. Bobby wasn't going anywhere and one night wasn't going to do anything to hinder them. He pulled the Impala in and didn't bother explaining while he went to get the keys. When he came back, Chloe and Sam were unloading their things from the trunk, hauling duffels over their shoulders and waiting for his return.

Inside, Sam took up his laptop and sprawled out on his bed while Chloe said she was going to take a shower. Hands on his hips, Dean wanted to talk, but he didn't know what the hell to say. So he locked the door, tossed his bag to the floor and paced. Ignoring him, Sam continued to look through things on his computer until finally, Dean opened the bathroom door, closed it behind him and took a seat on the toilet.

Chloe poked her head out from behind the curtain. "Took you long enough."

He pursed his lips. "What am I s'pose to do?"

She lifted a brow. "You're going to have to elaborate. Because I'm fairly sure you know how to operate the toilet."

He glared up at her. "He killed Brady."

Stepping back beneath the spray, she said, "You knew he would." She snorted. "You _gave_ him the opportunity."

"I know…" He frowned down at the floor. "Just thought he'd regret it more."

"If _your_ best friend revealed everything that Brady did to Sam, do you _really_ think you'd regret killing him?" She sighed. "Dean… He was a _demon_. A demon that played Sam like a puppet, yanking his strings and dragging him along when he was _supposed_ to be enjoying the freedom of college… And he brought _Jess_ into it; he made Jess a target and then he eliminated her."

Dean's jaw clenched; he didn't know Jess well, or even at all, really. But he thought, if Sam loved her as much as Dean loved Chloe, it made a hell of a lot more sense to him. He turned his head, eyed her silhouette behind the nearly sheer shower curtain. Arching her back, she slid her fingers through her hair and down her shoulders, rubbing at her neck. If anything happened to her… If somebody he really trusted _turned_ on them and she was killed in the process… His face screwed up angrily. Demon or human, he'd rip the bastard to shreds.

"You think he's losing his humanity," she murmured, grabbing his attention once more.

Brows furrowed, he nodded, even though he knew she couldn't see him.

"Even humans make mistakes, Dean; huge, massive ones. What matters is that they recognize them… I will bet you _anything_ that right now he is in there looking at every picture of him and Jess or him and Brady and he's reliving it all. The only regret he has is that he couldn't save her then and that he didn't recognize the signs sooner."

He snorted, shaking his head as he remembered Sam at his laptop, expression dark with sorrowful intensity.

"I'm right, aren't I?" she teased, popping her head back out.

He rolled his eyes at her playfully. "Move over," he said, standing to drag his shirt off.

She lifted a brow, eyes taking in the plains of his revealed torso. "I dunno, Winchester, there might not be enough room in here."

"Make room." Kicking off his boots, he undid his belt to shuck his jeans and boxer-briefs. Naked, he crossed the few feet between them, shoved the curtain out of the way and climbed in behind her. "Hell," he cursed under his breath at the sudden feel of very hot water scalding his skin.

She chuckled lightly.

Steam rolled all around them, filling the shower and making her form hazy to his eyes. Reaching out, he grabbed her hips and dragged her back. Having turned, her front met his; soft, wet breasts flattened against his chest. Staring up through damp lashes, her green eyes seemed darker. Hair plastered to her flushed skin, she glistened; water dripping down the plains and hollows of her body. With a slight smile, he bent down and slanted his mouth across hers, possessive, appreciative, a number of different adjectives that made his kiss both hard and passionate. Hands sliding up his chest, she wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned lowly, arching up into his frame.

Running a hand down her back, he palmed her butt and squeezed. Moaning, she angled her hips closer. A good portion of his brain wanted nothing more than to pin her to the shower wall and make her scream his name. But the brotherly part of him knew that would only hurt Sam. He was probably brooding, regretting and missing Jess and Dean didn't want to add fuel to the fire. So instead, he released Chloe and backed her up a few inches until the water poured down atop her head, wetting her hair once more.

Detaching from her mouth, he buried his face in her neck and suckled her pulse while hands sightlessly searched for the shampoo bottle. Finding it, he nibbled her throat and then drew back, pouring a good gob on top of her head before he massaged it into her soaked blonde hair. She laughed slightly, eyes aimed up as if trying to see what he was doing. Having much shorter hair, he wasn't used to the way hers tangled. Stepping out of the spray a bit, she held onto his hips and bit her lip, smiling. Feeling more lighthearted than he had when he first came in, he tried to lift her hair up into a faux-mohawk only to snort when it fell sideways, too heavy to stand.

She chuckled lightly, eyeing the white bubbles the sloped down her shoulders. "There's enough soap up there to wash yours, mine _and_ Sam's hair," she told him.

"So you'll be extra clean," he replied with a shrug.

Slicking her hair back, he used the extra soap to rub into her shoulders, massaging her neck with slow precision.

Eyes falling closed at his ministrations, she stepped closer to him, leaning into his body for balance while he kneaded tired muscles. "Shouldn't I be doing this to _you?_ " she wondered. "You're the one who went a few rounds with Brady."

"'m fine," he said, enjoying the way she fell into him, all of her strength leaving her body and her trust all that kept her holding onto him.

Sliding his hands down her back, he spread bubbly soap all over, rubbing it into her skin. Cheek pressed to his chest, she wrapped her arms around his waist and just _enjoyed_ him, sighing contently.

It was a few minutes before she murmured. "I'm gonna fall asleep if you keep that up."

He chuckled, leaning her back so he could rinse the soap from her hair, carefully threading his long fingers through the tangles, wiping suds away from her face before they could get into her eyes. He stared down at her, his brows furrowed with intensity. Sliding a hand out from behind him, she pressed her palm to the side of his face, her thumb gently dragging along his forehead to soothe away the thoughtful wrinkles.

He half-smiled at her, leaning down to kiss her temple before he grabbed up the conditioner and repeated the same process, minus the massage.

Turning them around so he was beneath the spray, she told him, "Your turn," cocking a brow for emphasis.

He had to bow his head just slightly for her to be able to reach his hair, but she managed just fine. Scrubbing the shampoo in with her fingertips, she was amused when he leaned into her touch and groaned at the sensation. Smoothing the leftover soap down his shoulders and chest, she rubbed it into his skin. Reaching up, he threaded his fingers through his short-cropped hair and made it into the mohawk he'd been aiming for her. "Awesome," he said, motioning to himself.

Laughing, she rolled her eyes and pointed her finger for him to lean back and wash it away. While he was busy, she found his body wash and squeezed it out into her palm before smearing it across his chest and spreading it all over. His hands paused above him as his eyes fell to watch as she rubbed it all along the expanse of his chest and sides, reaching back for more and making sure she soaped up every inch of him. Fingertips dancing along hard skin and tight muscles, she left none of him untouched, even wrapping her arms behind him so she could reach his back, her body pressed close to his and the soap soaking into her skin all the same.

He wasn't surprised when heat stirred inside him and her soft, supple body pressed to his and rubbing enticingly against his groin made him hiss with self-control. Slathered in soap, the two of them slid against each other easily. Reaching past her for the body wash, he spread a handful down her back, rubbing it into her skin and down the backs of her thighs. Brotherly consideration was making its way out the window as her legs spread and he hauled her up, her thighs tight at his sides. Dragging her nails across his hair, she bent to kiss him, their tongues tangling and teeth nibbling.

Her wet core pressed to his abdomen, hotter than the water lashing at his back. He pressed her back against the wall, a hiss escaping her as the cold tiles met her heated skin. She jerked against him, her hips rolling and his cock slid between them, cocooned against her folds. Gripping her thighs in his hands, his fingers dug in hard enough to leave bruises behind. Rocking against him, she dragged her fingers down his neck and squeezed his shoulders, urging him on. Holding her steady with his hands, he rotated his hips down, his length dragging along her spread open and quivering slit. He could feel the pearl of her clit against him and jerked up, rubbing himself against her, catching the whimper that escaped her mouth with his own. He was going to make her come, multiple times, but he wasn't going to have his brother hearing it.

Hand sliding up from her leg, he palmed her breast, rolling her pale pink nipple between his fingers, squeezing and plucking it in time with his thrusts against her. Legs squeezing his waist, she panted as she rubbed back, wanting and needing the pressure. She smelled like him; eyes closed, he buried his face in her neck and just inhaled. His and her scent mixed together in a heady combination that made him press against her harder.

"Dean," she gasped.

Lowering his mouth, he caught her free breast and suckled, dragging his teeth along her nipple.

Groaning, her head fell back.

Hips moving quicker as he felt her flutter against him, squeezed her breast with his hand and laved her with his tongue.

She panted harshly for breath. "Dean, I… I'm gonna…"

Releasing her breast, he caught her mouth just as she spasmed against him, rocking forward and holding tight to him as she shook, as her hot wetness spread down his length. Reaching between them, he dragged his fingers along her clenching folds and penetrated her with two long digits. Mouth falling wide, she scraped her nails down his back, her hips rocking desperately against him. Within seconds, he had her coming again, her cries echoing in his mouth. "Please, please…" she murmured, pressing her forehead to his.

Heels digging into his back, she reached down between them and wrapped her hand around the head of him, squeezing.

"Chloe," he groaned.

"Come with me this time," she told him, biting his lower lip lightly in askance.

Rocking furiously now, hands between them, helping each other along, he kissed her deeply, pressing to her tightly as he felt his body overcome with heat, muscles tightening in response to the pleasure built up inside him, rioting to get out. She was so soft, so hot, all around him. He could feel she was almost there; her chest heaved, her arm around his neck tightened.

Leaning close, her cheek tight to his, damp now with sweat rather than water, she nibbled his ear and murmured, "I love you."

It was the last blow his restraint could take before he came hard against her, a grunt buried in her shoulder. Simultaneously, she let go and with a cry at his neck, she climaxed brilliantly. Panting, his legs shook, hardly able to hold them up. With her against the wall, the majority of his weight pressed down on her. Running fingers through the back of his hair, she lazily kissed his neck. Closing his eyes, he just held on and enjoyed the last vestiges of his orgasm shaking him so perfectly.

It was a few minutes before he could let her down and stepped back, dragging her back beneath the spray of the water. With the way their shower had turned, they still had some cleaning up to do.

…

An hour later, Dean was passed out on his side of the bed while Chloe finished up a reply email to her dad on her laptop. Across the room, Sam mirrored her same position sitting atop his bed, legs sprawled long, crossed at the ankle. Brow furrowed, he continued to browse pictures. Finally closing her computer, she put it on the bedside table and stretched her arms above her head, cracking her back in the process. Snoring next to her, Dean's hand was wrapped loosely around her thigh as his own personal alarm system. Apparently he was tired of her getting out of bed before him and his not knowing until it could be too late.

Just as she reached up and turned off the lamp next to her, Sam said, "Chloe?"

"Yeah?" she replied quietly.

"You wanna see a picture of Jess?"

Smiling slightly, she nodded. "Sure." Carefully, she untangled Dean's hand from around her leg. As his brow began to furrow, she smoothed it with her other hand until she was certain he wouldn't wake up. Climbing off the bed, she crossed the room, taking a seat on the bed next to Sam. He angled his laptop toward her, showing her a picture of a beautiful blonde woman with bright blue eyes and a friendly smile. She was mid-laugh, her hair glinting in the sun, and everything about her said she was just a sweet, good, _innocent_ person. "She's beautiful," she murmured, glancing up at him.

He smiled slowly. "Yeah…"

"You miss her."

He turned toward her, nodding. "Yeah, sometimes… And other times, I think I just miss what I could've had with her."

Her brows furrowed in question.

"The normal life," he sighed. It was a long moment before he finally began talking again. "I had a ring; I was going to ask her to marry me…" His jaw ticked. "And then one day Dean shows up… Dad's missing. So I tell Jess I have to go, that I can't explain, I'll be back in time for my interview for Law school…" He swallowed tightly. "I make it in time… I…" He smiled. "I walk in and there's cookies waiting for me." He shook his head, brows knotted. " _Cookies_. And a note, just her saying she missed me, she loves me…" His expression darkened. "I thought she was in the shower. I thought… But I laid back on the bed and then… Something—Something _warm_ hit my face, I opened my eyes and she… She was _there_ , on the ceiling… Her face stuck i-in _horror_ and she was bleeding, clear through her stomach, and the fire… God, the fire, it was everywhere. It just _burst_ out of her and spread… I-I-I could _smell_ her flesh _burning_ …" He shook his head, eyes falling closed.

"Sam…" Reaching out, she took his hand, squeezing. "It wasn't your fault."

He turned toward her. "Wasn't it?" He smiled sadly. "Jessica Moore was just a regular person; she was happy and she had no idea about anything like this, that it could even _happen_ … And then she meets _me_ and—"

"And she falls in love," Chloe interrupted. "She falls in love with this _amazing_ guy that she can probably see her whole future with… And there are others, demons, on the outside looking in, that want nothing more than to ruin that for them. But just like she had no idea, _neither_ does he…" She stared up at him searchingly. "Regretting her is like giving in to them." She shook her head firmly. "They _want_ you to hurt… They want you to be angry and resentful and they want you to feed off your regrets, but _Sam_ … If Jess is even _half_ as wonderful as you know she was… Don't you think she'd have forgiven you?"

Voice tight, thick with emotion, he rasped, "Yeah…" He nodded. "Yeah, she would have."

"Right… So screw Brady and Azazel and all those demons out there who think they've got something over you. Because they _don't_." Looking up at him, she promised, "You will find someone you love and who loves you just as much, I _know_ it. And _whatever_ future you two decide to have it'll be what you _want_ , not what anybody wants for you or what you think you have to have…" Smiling gently, she lifted a brow. "All right?"

He chuckled slightly. "You're not very good at letting me brood."

She shrugged. "Brooding never solved anything." Standing from the bed, she walked back toward hers and Dean's. "You're smart, Sam… So why waste your time regretting things you can't change when you have a future of possibilities right there in front of you?"

Not waiting for a reply, she climbed into bed and laid down next to Dean, who mumbled something unintelligible and wrapped an arm around her waist, sighing as he pulled her in close and fell back asleep.

Brows furrowed, Sam drew his eyes away from them and back to his laptop. When he pushed 'Next' there was a picture of him, Jess and Brady, all smiling, all happy, young and _free_. But that was years ago, almost six now, and he wasn't the same guy smiling back at him in the photo. And neither was Brady. Exiting the pictures, he stared at the folder holding all of his college memories; dozens, maybe even hundreds of pictures of his two years there, of a different life. He right clicked, selected delete and hovered over the No. Looking up, he stared at Chloe; his soon-to-be sister-in-law, his brother's _soul mate_ , fast asleep, peaceful, content with this life she led, as crazy and death-defying as it always was. He clicked Yes, watched as all of them were tossed into the Recycle Bin and then he went and emptied it so he couldn't second-guess himself.

He wasn't going to live in his past anymore. He wasn't going to regret Jess or anything he'd had. But he was going to move on from it; he was going to let it go and finally accept that it had happened, it was over, and there was a lot more to come.

Well, so long as they beat the apocalypse and Lucifer anyway.

He snorted, shaking his head as he reached over and turned out the lamp. So this new future of his wasn't going to be _easy_ … What in his life ever was? The point being that he accepted it now and he wouldn't fight it or who he was. Because he was Sam– _Sammy_ Winchester and maybe there was demon blood in him, maybe he wasn't the luckiest of people and maybe he'd even died a few times only to come back to life, but he was alive now and a war was coming. A war he would fight in, as best and as hard as he could, in whatever capacity was needed. So long as the world was saved, it was all that mattered. And if Chloe was right and he one day found someone to love him, for all his faults and weirdness, so be it. He grinned into the darkness of the room. He could hope.

…

The next day on the road, everybody was in better spirits. Dean even let Sam pick the radio station, even if he nixed it whenever something country or new pop came on. With the windows rolled down and the sun beating down on them warmly, they sped across black asphalt far above the speed limit. Chloe laughed as the two brothers headbanged hilariously to BTO's Taking Care of Business.

Loudly, they sang, " _And I'll be... Taking care of business, every day, taking care of business, every way. I've been taking care of business; it's all mine. Taking care of business and working overtime. Work out!_ "

Sam broke off, laughing, while Dean played the air-guitar. As the car swerved, Chloe lurched across the seat to hold it steady, still chuckling.

Grinning, he kissed her quickly before he sang, " _If it were easy as fishin', you could be a musician. If you could make sounds loud or mellow, get a second-hand guitar, chances are you'll go far, if you get in with the right bunch of fellows_." He winked and she rolled her eyes playfully. " _People see you having fun, just a-lying in the sun, tell them that you like it this way. It's the work that we avoid, and we're all self-employed, we love to work at nothing all day. And we'd be—_ "

Sam jumped in, singing loud and off-tune, " _Taking care of business, every day, taking care of business, every way. I've been taking care of business; it's all mine! Taking care of business and working overtime. Work out!_ "

"Whooo!" Dean cheered. Bobbing his head side to side, he played his air-guitar happily.

Sam clapped to the beat on her right and Chloe shook her head, vastly amused by them.

" _Takin' care of business, we be, takin' care of business, we be, takin' care of business_ …"

As the song faded away, Dean retook the steering wheel and Chloe sat back in the seat and just chuckled to herself.

Running his fingers through his hair, Sam sat back and grinned to himself before glancing back at her and nodding, as if to tell her that what she said had really sunk in and he appreciated it.

"I'm hungry," Dean muttered, shifting in his seat and frowning at the sign that said food wouldn't be for a while yet.

However, as the radio blared with Foghat's Slow Ride, he cheered up, reaching over and turning it even louder. "Classic!"

Chloe and Sam exchanged a look, but both of them knew they were going to sing along.

" _Slow ride, take it easy… Slow ride, take it easy… Slow ride, take it easy… Slow ride, take it easy,"_ they all sang at the top of their lungs. " _I'm in the mood, the rhythm is right, Move to the music, we can roll all night. Oooh, oooh, slow ride - oooh, oooh..._ "

It was nice, she thought, that in the midst of everything they could have just that little bit of fun.

Soon, she knew, it would all just be a memory of the past, forgotten amidst war. She sang a little louder so she didn't have to think about it too much.


	32. Chapter Thirty-One

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXXI**.

Sam waited until they arrived back at Bobby's to tell Dean his plan for saying yes to Lucifer.

Chloe sat in the office with Bobby, looking over papers with him while the two brothers had their talk. Since it wasn't her place, she hadn't brought it up, even if on the ride home, she felt like she had a huge secret on her shoulders and didn't like keeping it from Dean. But it wasn't her secret to tell and at least in this case, it wasn't going to have to be kept long.

She cringed when Dean yelled, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Gaze lifting, she found them as they appeared just in the doorway of the kitchen, Dean glaring back at his brother.

"Dean…" Sam sighed.

"No, don't _Dean_ me!" he exclaimed. "I mean, you-you have had some stupid ideas in the past but this…" He looked back at Bobby. "Did you know about this?"

"What?" Bobby asked, rolling toward them.

"About Sam's _genius_ plan to say yes to the devil," he scoffed sarcastically.

Frowning, he nodded his head slowly.

Dean's brows screwed up and his eyes turned toward Chloe. "And you?"

She sighed.

"Well thanks for the head's up!" he yelled at them.

"Hey, this ain't about us," Bobby told him.

Turning around, Dean cocked his head and pointed at Sam. "Ya can't do this."

Sam shrugged. "That's the consensus."

"All right, awesome, then, end of discussion." His cell rang before anybody could argue and Dean dragged it out of his jeans pocket. Glancing back, he pointed and said, "This isn't over," before he flipped over his phone and held it to his ear. "Hello?" he growled.

"Dean."

Mouth ajar, he looked back at Sam. "Cas?"

Sam leaned forward worriedly. "Is he okay?"

He held a hand up to say 'Just hold on,' and then turned back to his phone. "We all thought you were dead, where the hell are you man?"

"A hospital."

His brows knotted. "Are you _okay?_ "

"No."

His eyes widened when Cas said no more before he prompted, "You wanna _elaborate?_ "

"I just… woke up here." He sighed. "The doctors were fairly surprised; they thought I was brain dead."

His brows furrowed, eyes turning upward. "So a-a _hospital_."

"Yeah, apparently after Van Nuys I suddenly appeared… bloody and unconscious on a shrimping boat off Delacroix."

Closing his eyes, Dean shook his head.

"I'm told it upset the sailors."

"Uh…" He cleared his throat. "Well, I gotta tell you man, you're just in time. We figured out a way to pop Satan's box."

"H-How?" he asked, voice hitching with pain.

"It's a long story, buddy. Look, we're goin' after Pestilence _now_ , so if you wanna… _zap_ over here…?"

"I can't _zap_ anywhere," he sighed.

His lips pursed. "What d'you mean?"

"It seems my batteries are- are drained."

"What d'you mean, you're _outta_ angel mojo?"

"I'm saying that I'm _thirsty_ and my head aches…"

Dean turned around brows furrowed.

"I have a bug bite that itches no matter how much I scratch it! I'm-I'm saying that I'm just incredibly…"

"Human," Dean finished.

He sighed.

Dean took a seat, muttering, "Wow. Sorry."

"My point is, I can't go anywhere without money for… an _airplane_ ride and food… And coffee infused with pain medication, ideally."

"All right, look, no worries," he said, rubbing his forehead. "Bobby's here, he'll wire you the money."

"I will?" Bobby asked in the background.

Chloe socked his shoulder, frowning at him.

He frowned back at her grumpily.

"Dean, wait," Cas said. "You said no to Michael… I owe you can apology."

"Cas, i-it's okay."

"You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be," he said sincerely.

Brows heavy over his eyes, he replied sarcastically, "Thank you…" And when he didn't receive a reply, added, "I appreciate that."

"You're welcome."

Brow cocked, he opened his mouth to say more only to hear Cas disconnect. Lowering the phone, he shoved it back in his pocket and sighed. "Great."

…

Seven hours later, the three were en route to Davenport, Iowa, where Brady promised Pestilence would be hiding.

"You should drop me off at the bus station," Chloe said, moving to the edge of her seat and leaning over theirs.

Brows furrowed, Dean looked back at her. "What? Why?"

"Relax," she assured. She nearly scoffed; as if she was just going to offer herself up for the first ride home. Men… They could be so _dense._ "I just thought someone should be there to meet Cas… An angel-turned-human in a very busy bus station sounds like a really _bad_ idea to me."

He pursed his lips. "I dunno…"

"Dean…" She stared at him incredulously. "What's safer?"

Sighing, he nodded. "All right, fine."

"That's it?" she said, surprised. "Usually you argue more."

"Yeah, 'cause usually you want a part in the dangerous stuff."

She grinned. "It's less boring."

Dean took the turn-off for the Greyhound and shifted in his seat, glancing at Sam and then back at her. "So, you two shared the details on his little 'yes' plan… Where was I?"

"Getting beat-up by Brady," she offered, smiling.

He frowned back at her.

"Look, Sam called Bobby, I overheard, he wanted our two-cents, we gave it." She shrugged; sounded simple to her.

" _And?_ "

Her brows furrowed. "And what?"

"And you told him _not_ to, right?"

She bit her lip. Not in so many words, no… Or at all.

His eyes narrowed, lips pursing. "Chloe…"

"You know I'm _right_ here, right?" Sam argued, sighing.

"Shut up," Dean muttered, turning his attention back to her. "You can't really think it's a good plan!"

"I _think_ that Sam knows what's best for _him_ and that I have no _say_ in it, not really." She sighed. "Do I _want_ him to invite Lucifer out to play? No, of course not. But I can't _tell_ him what to think or feel. If he really thinks he can do this, who am I tell him not to?"

"Uh, _sane!_ " he growled.

"Dean…"

Jaw ticking, he shook his head. "Never mind! We're all gonna have a real damn serious talk about what _is_ and _isn't_ crazy when this is all over."

"Yeah, because _you're_ the spokesperson," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Grinding his teeth, he refused to argue with her and stopped abruptly in front of the bus station entrance. "Try not to get into trouble," he told her.

Hopping out, she saluted them both. "Try not to get diseased." With a wink, she turned and walked away, hurrying inside to keep an eye out for their powerless angel.

Muttering under his breath, Dean hit the gas and took off out of the parking lot, his tires squealing.

…

Night had fallen where Sam and Dean staked out Serenity Valley Convalescent Home.

"All I'm sayin' is, if you're gonna share with the class, maybe _not_ leaving me outta the loop for a few days would be a _good_ idea."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I thought we were gonna talk about this later."

"Yeah, well, bite me."

He sighed. "Dean… Are you mad because I didn't tell you, or because I _did_ tell Chloe and _she_ didn't tell you?"

He glared at him. "Does it _matter?_ "

"Since I'm the only one getting heat from it right now…" His brows rose high on his forehead in emphasis as he nodded. "Uh, _yeah_."

Jaw ticking, he looked back toward the building. "I changed my mind, we'll talk later."

Binoculars in hand, they each looked window to window for any sign of trouble.

"So, this is Doctor Evil's lair, huh?" he sighed.

Sam watched as a man was wheeled up the path toward the doors. "It's kinda more depressing than evil."

"Yeah, it's like a four-color brochure for dying young." Dropping his binoculars, he waved them around, saying, "'Course to Pestilence, it's probably Dollywood in there."

Scoffing, Sam muttered, "Great… Whole building full of people, we don't know who's human, who's demon, and who's Pestilence."

Lips pursed, he glared at the building thoughtfully.

"So what do we do?"

"Hang on…" Dean lifted his binoculars and zeroed in on a security camera. His eyes widened with an idea.

A few minutes later, they were inside and walking up and down hallways, searching for the security office.

Finding it, Dean turned the handle and walked in. "Hey, hi, uh…" he said in greeting, "I was looking for my Nana, uh… Her name is, uh, Eunice Kennedy." He nodded.

The guard pointed back with his thumb. "Go around front and see the nurse."

He lifted a finger back at Sam and then stepped in closer. "You mind just helping me out, sir?" He let the door close. "Uh, she's about, uh… that small," He motioned with his hand just above the desk, "And grey hair, wears diapers." With the guard sitting forward and Dean at a good angle, he finally just uppercut him and left him unconscious on the floor.

Shaking the sting out of his hand, he stepped back and banged on the door for Sam to come in before dragging the guard out of the way.

Closing the door behind him, Sam cocked a brow, "Eunice Kennedy?"

"That's the beauty about improv, Sammy," he said, lifting a shoulder. "Ya never know what's gonna come outta your mouth."

Scoffing, he simply looked at the security screens. His brother was one of a kind.

…

Chloe checked the arrival time for the sixth time since being dropped off. She'd already spent all her change on vending food, gone to the bathroom twice, paced until her feet hurt and a few other people waiting glared at her, and texted Lois for entertainment. Unfortunately, her cousin was busy hunting down a story, she was regretting the last bag of cheezies she ate, and the bus was ten minutes late. However, finally, it was announced that Castiel's bus had arrived and they'd be out soon. Making her way over to meet him, she wondered if the boys had caught Pestilence yet. There was some worry in not being with them, unable to witness it all firsthand. She kept her ears open for her cell to ring; if anything went wrong, Dean would call her. Unless he was dead, then it was a moot point.

People hurried down the stairs of the Greyhound, all of them either in a hurry to get their baggage out from beneath the bus or rushing toward friends and loved ones. Chloe lifted up on her tip toes to try and see over heads, trying to spot Cas amidst the crowd. Finally, in his usual tan trench coat and looking very much out of place, he stepped out into the open, looking around in confusion.

Shoving past a few people, she stepped into view. "Cas!" she shouted, making her way past security.

Just as she was about to hug him, he grabbed her hand and stared at it. "You're engaged," he said in greeting. He blinked. "To Dean."

Brows furrowed, she nodded slowly. "Quick deduction skills, Sherlock."

He stared at her a moment, head cocked, confused by her comment.

"Never mind," she sighed. "Can I hug you know?"

"If it's what you want," he replied simply.

Chuckling, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing. "We were worried about you," she murmured, feeling an overwhelming need to cry just then.

Standing, unsure what to do, he simply nodded.

Reaching down, she wrapped his arm around her waist. "Just… squeeze. It's a sign of affection."

Carefully, slowly, he put his arms around her body and squeezed quickly. Clearing his throat, he said awkwardly, "I don't think Dean would approve of this."

Trying her best not to laugh, she let go of him, instead hooking her arm with his. "How does coffee and a cab sound?"

Turning toward her, his brows perked with interest. "The first sounds more appealing than the second."

Grinning, she was happy they had their angel back.

…

Bored, Sam stared at the security screens, seeing nothing but black and white screens with nurses moving elderly people from one room to another. Head perched on his upturned hand, his brows furrowed. "So what are—" He turned his head to see Dean had fallen asleep next to him. Reaching out, he shoved his chest. "Hey."

Snorting as he woke abruptly, he lifted his head.

"What are we even looking for?" Sam asked him.

He waved a hand. "Well, he's Pestilence, so he probably looks sick."

" _Everybody_ looks sick."

Head falling back, he shrugged. He had no better ideas.

While Sam watched, Dean paced to keep himself awake. "You think Cas is in yet?"

He checked his watch. "I dunno… Maybe." He looked back at him. "Why don't you call Chloe?"

Dean frowned, sitting back on a counter and looking away.

"You can't _seriously_ be mad at her…" When he got no reply, Sam scoffed. "Dean, it was _my_ business. If anything, she was just keeping my confidence."

"Yeah, well, glad to see you two are so damn chummy," he muttered sarcastically.

"God, you are not pulling the jealousy card again, are you?" he sighed. "I don't think of her that way. Hell, a couple days ago I told her she was my _sister!_ "

Dean's face screwed up. "What?"

"She was just… She really, I dunno… She _supported_ me, y'know?" Leaning back in his chair, he exhaled heavily. "I thought she'd try and talk me out of it—"

"She _should_ have."

"No, Dean, you're not getting it…" He half-smiled. "For the first time, somebody told me it was up to me. Th-That I didn't have to do what everyone else said or wanted, but that it was _my_ decision." He stared up at him. "You don't know how lucky you are… I mean, she doesn't just get you, she gets this life! She gets how weird it can be, how tiring, and she accepts it. She accepts every part of it. The bad, the good, and the _people_." He shook his head. "Right then, I wasn't just your little brother o-or Lucifer's _meatsuit_ , I was… I was _Sam_. That's all she saw, all she cared about."

Brows furrowed, he nodded slowly, letting his words and the silence sink in before finally he asked, "Sister, huh?"

He grinned. "Yes, Dean… She's like a _sister_ to me. One I really hope you won't _blame_ for my decision."

His chin lifted. "Thought we decided you _weren't_ saying yes."

"We did…" He turned back toward the screens. "Doesn't mean it's not an option though."

As a man stepped out of a door, the screen began to flicker, a line intersecting his face. "Hey!" he said, drawing Dean's attention to where he pointed.

Leaning over, hands on the desk, he watched the screen as it rolled out of focus, following the man as he moved from screen to screen, hallway to hallway.

"Oh now we're talkin'," he muttered.

…

"Dr. Green," an elderly woman, confined to a bed greeted. "How was your trip?"

"Oh, very productive," the man said, taking a seat next to her on her bed.

With silver hair and an almost sickly appearance, the man took her hand in his and patted it. "And how are we tonight, Celeste, my favorite patient?"

She sighed warmly.

"Nurse says you can't sleep," he said, looking at her with concern.

"Oh, I just feel worse and worse…"

"Well," Mr. Green said, taking out his glasses, "That's because you're suffering from a combination of the common cold, Dengue fever, and a nasty, _nasty_ case of Japanese encephalitis."

"What are you—I-I'm sorry, I—" She chuckled sweetly in confusion.

"No, you heard me." He smiled before reaching out and brushing his hand across her forehead. "Oh, and look at that," he said as her complexion turned even more sickly. "You never had chicken pox as a child." He touched the tip of her nose. "Well this… is gonna be fascinating."

Struggling to breathe, Celeste struggled, "But I… How could I…?"

"Have all those diseases at once?" he asked, shaking his head. Grinning, he said, "Well, it's a…" He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes with his knuckle, "proprietary blend. I mix it up in a Petri dish – the Petri dish being… _you_."

"Oh…" A hand lifted toward her chest.

"Try and relax, it'll be all right," he assured.

"Are you… gonna… c-cure me?" she hoped.

He tipped his head. "No… You're going to die. In… 4, 3, 2—"

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Celeste suddenly vomited; green liquid splattering across Dr. Green's face and arm.

"Interesting," he said simply.

…

Guns in hand, Sam and Dean rushed down a hall, pausing and drawing back when they saw an orderly down the way. Waiting around a corner until he was out of sight, they walked quietly down the hall, glancing in a room only once at a busy nurse. Looking up as they hurried by, she lifted her head in recognition and hurried to where her boss was with Celeste. "Sir," she said in greeting, rushing into the room. Her eyes flicked black with her demonic presence. "The Winchesters are here…" She lifted her chin and told him, "We should go."

Cleaning Celeste's vomit from his glasses, he laughed shortly. "Are you kidding me?"

Squirming awkwardly, she said, "They have a track record with horsemen."

"You mean my brothers?" he sneered, wiping violently at his glasses. "What they did to my brothers," he said through clenched teeth. "Nope." He lifted his glasses to see how clean they were, narrowing his eyes to focus. "The only reasonable thing to do here is to take it outta their healthy young asses," he told her calmly.

Swallowing tightly, she argued, "We're under strict orders not to kill the vessels."

"Well if Satan wants them so bad he can _glue them back together!_ " he shouted, his eyes wide with rage.

She drew her head back.

Finding his inner-strength once more, he held his hands out, inviting her to come to him. "Come, come…"

Walking slowly, she hesitated at his dark expression, but finally let him embrace her. Wrapping her arms around him, she closed her eyes, while he patted her shoulder and looked irritable for having to apologize in any fashion for his temper. "Now then…" he murmured, reaching for his ring and twisting it.

…

Walking quietly through the halls, Sam and Dean were suddenly hit with a wave of something and each began coughing thickly. Eyes blurred, they continued forward, struggling against the tickle in their throats and the pressure in their chests. Coming around a corner, they were met with two dead bodies, that of a nurse and a doctor, and their coughing increased. Leaning against opposite walls for support, they pushed forward regardless.

Groaning, Sam said, "Must be getting close."

"Ya think?"

Dean bent over as his cough strained his breathing while Sam began to sway, the floor going in and out of focus.

Stepping over the doctor, Dean paused, bending over and using a table to keep himself up.

"Dean…" Sam crossed toward him, grabbing him by his shoulders and trying to help him up. It was too much for either of them, however, and they fell to the floor in a heap. While Dean coughed on the floor, Sam struggled to stand, holding his knife up as he blinked at the door in front of him, trying to read the numbers.

Walking toward it, he was surprised when it swung open.

A healthy young nurse appeared and Sam waved his knife at her.

"The doctor will see you now," she said simply.

"Sam… Dean," the fake Dr. Green greeted, grinning as he sat next to the dead Celeste. He waved them forward.

Unable to stand any longer, Sam collapsed on the floor and past him, Dean lay with his eyes closed, face against the linoleum.

"Come right in," Pestilence mocked.

…

"I don't live here, how should _I_ know where the elderly home is?" Chloe argued.

"If I had my powers, we'd already be there," Castiel moped.

"Did he just say _powers_?" the cab-driver asked, looking back at them warily.

"It was a long drive, all right? He doesn't know what he's saying," she muttered. "It's Serenity Valley Convalescent Home… And we need to get there _quickly!_ "

"Look, Lady, it doesn't matter how many times you say it, I don't know where it is."

"Well, don't you have a map or something? Or a base you can call?" she exclaimed.

"I wouldn't have to do anything more than _think_ of it and we'd be there," Cas muttered. "And I could bring my coffee _with_ me," he added, glaring at the drive.

"Buddy, there's no drinks in my cab, all right? I've had enough spills to know that much."

"I've decided I don't like Iowa… or its many cab drivers."

Sighing, Chloe rolled her eyes. "I will _get_ you another coffee after, okay?" Leaning forward, she growled, "I don't see you calling in for directions."

The cab driver scowled at her but picked up his radio.

"Eh, this is number 4-4-7, I need directions for a, uh, Serene Valley…"

" _Serenity!_ "

"Oh, yeah, uh, _Serenity_ _Valley_ elderly home."

"Copy that. Just a second 4-4-7."

Sitting back in her seat, Chloe glared, checking her watch for the time and wincing.

…

The nurse dragged Dean in and dropped him next to his coughing brother before stepping back and watching in satisfaction as they struggled for air.

"Hmm," Pestilence drawled, "You boys don't look well." He cocked his head, standing. "Might be the, uh, Scarlet Fever. Or the Meningitis." Eyes wide, he added, "Oh," He laughed, "Or the syphilis." He clicked his tongue. "Wife isn't going to appreciate that, huh Dean?"

Lying on their sides, blood ringing their mouths, neither brother could do more than glare up at him.

Pestilence tisked. "That's no fun."

Walking toward them, he bent down and grabbed Sam by the hair, yanking his head up. "However you feel right now… it's going to get so very, very much worse." He grinned. " _Questions?_ " Releasing him, he stepped back and filled his hands with antibacterial soap. "Disease gets such a bad rap, doncha think? For being _filthy, chaotic_ , but really, that just describes _people_ who get sick. Disease itself is very… pure."

Spotting the knife across the floor, Dean reached out, his hand shaking, trying to wrap his fingers around the blade.

"Single-minded. Bacteria have one purpose. Divide and conquer." Smiling, he lifted his foot and brought it down on top of Dean's reaching fingers.

Groaning in pain, he screwed his face up.

"That's why in the end… it always wins."

Kicking the blade away, he stepped back.

Dean inhaled thickly and brought his pained hand back to his chest.

"So…" He began walking around the room. "You gotta wonder why God pours all his love in to something so _messy!_ " he shouted, sneering down at them. "And _weak!_ "

Dean glared up at him while Sam writhed in pain, teeth clenched as he gripped his stomach tight.

"It's ridiculous," Pestilence muttered before taking a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. Digging into his pocket, he produced his glasses. "All I can do is show him he's wrong." He smiled. " _One_ epidemic at a time."

Sam struggled, shoulders heaving, as air became nearly non-existent.

"Now… On a scale one of to ten… How's your pain?" he mocked.

Behind them, the door opened and in walked Castiel.

"Cas," Dean said weakly.

"How'd you get here?" Pestilence demanded.

"Took a bus," he growled, chest heaving as he stepped further into the room. Pointing a finger toward them, he said, "Don't worry, I—" A cough cut him off and suddenly he fell to his knees, blood spurting from his mouth and pooling on the floor.

Pestilence stared down at him, kneeling so they were eye to eye and grinning. "Well, look at that."

Cas looked up at him, face folded in pain.

"An occupied vessel but…" He shook his head smugly. "Powerless. Well… That's fascinating." He cocked his head. "There's not a speck of angel in you, is there?"

Lunging forward, Cas grabbed up the knife from the floor, stood and sliced it across Pestilence's hand, separating his ring and finger from him. "Maybe just a speck."

Crying out, blood spurting from him, he stumbled backwards.

As the demon attacked him, throwing him to the ground, Cas angled the knife up and plunged it through her stomach.

No longer under the effects of his diseases, Dean and Sam stood from the floor and hurried to the table where the ring lay.

"Doesn't matter," Pestilence said as Dean picked it up. Holding his bloody hand, he told them, "It's too late," before he disappeared.

Sighing, Dean looked back at them, the morbidity of Pestilence's parting words lying heavy on them all. Jaw ticking, he looked to Cas. "Where's Chloe?"

"Fighting with the cab driver…" he replied simply.

His brows furrowed. "What?"

Suddenly, they heard muttering down the hall and the woman in question stepped into the room. Glancing at the dead demon on the floor, she pursed her lips. "I missed all the excitement, didn't I?" she muttered, shrugging.

"What took you guys so long?" Sam wondered.

"First, Cas' bus was late and _then_ the cab driver couldn't find this place…" She shook her head. "He'll be looking for a new job this time tomorrow," she muttered menacingly.

Exchanging a look with his brother, Sam lifted his brows.

"Yeah, sure, look, let's get outta here before people start asking questions," Dean said, crossing the room and taking Chloe's hand as he left.

Following after them, Cas said, "I was promised a coffee stop."

"Chloe, did I ever tell you that you created a _monster?_ " Sam asked, eyeing Cas humorously.

"Jealous you didn't play a part, Igor?" she teased back.

His brows furrowed. "Igor?" he repeated, offended.

Dean laughed, smirking back at him.

…

The ride back to Bobby's was uneventful, aside from Cas and his need for a very specific kind of coffee and a lot of it. Soon enough though, they'd pulled into Bobby's driveway and were sitting in his living room, explaining the latest round with Horsemen number three.

Dean tossed the ring down on the desk for him to see.

"Well…" Bobby sighed, "It's nice to actually score a homerun for once, ain't it?"

Sam looked up at him, brows furrowed. He looked to Dean, who was resting his head on his arm and tossed the ring a few inches away.

"What?" Bobby asked, looking between them.

"Last thing Pestilence said…" He looked up, brows lifted for emphasis, "It's too _late_."

Sitting next to Chloe in the window seat, a large mug of coffee in his hands, Cas frowned.

"He get specific?"

Sam shook his head. "No."

"We're just a little freaked out that he might'a left a bomb somewhere," Dean said, lifting his head. "So please tell us you have actual good news."

Bobby looked from him over to Cas and then told them, "Chicago's about to be wiped off the map. Storm of the millennium. Sets off a _daisy-chain_ of natural disasters. Three million people are gonna die."

Sam stared, eyes wide.

"Huh," Dean muttered.

Brows screwed up, Cas turned to Chloe and then back to them. "I don't understand your definition of good news."

Chloe pursed her lips so not to laugh.

Hearing him, Bobby rolled his eyes. "Well… _Death_ – the _horseman_ – he's gonna _be_ there." He looked between the Winchesters. "And if we can _stop_ him before he kick-starts this storm… Get his ring back…"

" _Yeah_ ," Dean said sarcastically, "You make it sound so _easy_."

"Hell," He lifted his hands up, "I'm just tryin' to put a spin on it."

Leaning back, Dean licked his lips, shaking his head.

"Bobby, h-how you'd put all this together anyways?" Sam wondered.

He stared back, eyes wide. "I had, y'know… _help_."

Glass clinking behind them grabbed their attention.

Dean turned to see Crowley pour himself a glass of whiskey.

"Don't be so modest," the demon said in greeting.

Brow cocked, Dean turned back to stare at Bobby questioningly.

"I barely helped at all." Smiling smugly, Crowley joined them in the office.

Bobby rolled his eyes, frowning.

"Hello boys," he said, nodding to them. "And to you, Lovely," he added, winking at Chloe. Leaning in the doorway, he raised his glass to his mouth. "Pleasure, etcetera." Taking a sniff, he recognized the holy water and drew the glass away, dropping it on a desk instead. "Go ahead," he continued, tucking his hands in his pockets. "Tell them. There's no shame in it."

Dean, Sam, Chloe and Cas all turned to look at him.

"Bobby?" Sam asked. "Tell us _what?_ "

He stared back silently a moment, warring with Crowley before finally saying, "World's gonna end, seems stupid to get precious over one little… _soul_."

"You sold your _soul?_ " Dean growled.

"Bobby…" Chloe whispered, shoulders slumping.

"Oh, more like pawned it," Crowley argued. "I fully intend to give it back."

Dean reared around angrily and shouted, "Well then give it back!"

"I will."

"Now!"

Sam's forehead wrinkled. "Did you kiss him?"

"Sam!" Dean admonished.

"Just wondering."

They both turned to look at him questioningly.

"Guys!" Chloe said, before raising a hand to cover her mouth, hiding her amusement.

Looking between them, Bobby exclaimed, "No!"

Crowley cleared his throat, holding his phone forward to show off a picture of him and Bobby puckering up.

Sighing, Bobby's eyes fell shut in embarrassment.

Both boys squinted at the picture, lips pursed in morbid fascination.

"Why'd you take a picture?" Bobby demanded.

Crowley turned the phone back toward him and glanced at the picture before replying, "Why'd you have to use tongue?"

Dean and Sam turned to look back at Bobby who was turning a bright red.

"All right, y'know what? I'm sick of this." Standing from his chair, Dean waved a finger at him, "Give him his soul back, _now_ …" He walked toward him menacingly.

"I'm sorry, I _can't_ ," Crowley said.

"Can't or won't?" he shouted.

"I _won't_ , all right?" he yelled back. "It's insurance!"

"What're you talkin' about?" Dean looked him up and down questioningly.

"You kill demons…" He nodded toward Sam. "Gigantor over there has a temper issue about it." He lifted his brows, half-smiling. "But you won't kill me. As long as I have that soul in a deposit box."

"You sonuvabitch," Bobby drawled.

Pursing his lips, Crowley's eyes fell and then rose to meet his. "I'll return it," he vowed. "After all this is over and I can walk safely away. _Do we all understand each other?_ " he exclaimed harshly.

Unable to argue, Dean and Bobby both ground their teeth silently.

"Fantastic. Well, I'm off to do a little digging then… You lot try and stay busy, yeah?"

He disappeared from sight and Dean turned around, cocking his head at Bobby. "What the _hell?_ "

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. "Does this really need repeatin'? He could get us the information and I had my soul to bargain with… We were runnin' outta options."

"How'd you know he'd really give it back?" Chloe asked, brows knotted.

He looked at her, lips pursed. "I didn't."

"Bobby…" Standing, she crossed toward him, hand on his shoulder.

Reaching back, he patted her hand and then glared at the two boys. "It's done and there ain't no takin' it back. So let's move on." Sighing, he rolled his wheelchair back. "You wanna help make dinner, Sully, or stand around lookin' pretty all day?"

With a soft snort, she rolled her eyes and followed him. "Come on, Cas… You probably need a refill."

He frowned down into his mug. "I preferred when I could hold the whole pot with my hands."

"Yeah, well, unless you want to revisit the hospital with second degree burns…" she trailed off.

Rising, Cas followed after her. "They didn't give me _any_ coffee in the hospital."

…

Outside in the scrap yard, Dean went through his trunk's inventory. Moving guns, Latin texts, and various weapons out of his way, trying to figure out all that was going to be needed.

Sam walked by, stopping next to the Impala and stuffing his hands in his pockets as he leaned back against the door, sighing.

Looking up, Dean's brows furrowed. Circling the car, he said, "Lemme guess, we're about to have a talk." He pursed his lips as his brother looked at him.

Chuckling under his breath, his mouth curved in a short half-smile. Turning toward him he said, "Look, Dean, um…" He cleared his throat. "For the record, I agree with you. About me." His eyes widened seriously. "You think I'm too weak to take on Lucifer…" He lifted his shoulders. "Well so do I…" He scoffed. "Believe me, I know exactly how screwed up I am… You, Bobby, Cas…" He shook his head. "I'm the least of any of you. Hell, if it wasn't for Chloe being new to the hunting game, she'd probably be stronger too."

"Aw, Sam…" Dean sighed. Turning around, he leaned back against the car, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's true," he argued, waving a hand through the air. "It is. But… I'm also all we _got_ …" He shook his head. "If there was another way…" He shrugged. "But I don't think there _is_. There's just… _me_."

Dean's chin fell, hitting his chest.

"So I don't know what else to do… Except just _try_ to do what's gotta be done."

Dean licked the inside of his lip and looked up at him, brows furrowed with uncertainty.

" _And…_ scene," Crowley interrupted behind them, drawing a hand down in front of his face.

Jaw ticking, Sam looked up and away in irritation.

Circling the Impala, Crowley came to stand in front of them, pulling out a newspaper and passing it to Sam. "Something you need to see."

Taking it, he opened it up and looked down to where Crowley pointed. " _Niveus Pharmaceuticals rushing delivery of it's new… Swine Flu vaccine to, quote, Stem the tide of the unprecedented outbreak,_ uh… _Shipment's leave Wednesday_ …"

Dean's brow furrowed as he turned to look at Crowley.

"Niveus Pharmaceuticals," he explained, "Get it?"

He looked between them and their confused expressions. Sighing, he muttered, "You two are lucky you have your looks…" Leaning forward with purpose, he exclaimed, "Your _demon lover_ , Brady… VP of Distribution… Niveus."

Dawning fell across their faces.

"Ah, yes, that's the sound of the abacus clacking…"

Dean glared back at him.

Crowley looked between them. "We all caught up?"

"So Pestilence was spreading Swine Flu…" Sam deduced.

"Yeah, but not just for giggles, it was step one. Step two is the _vaccine_ ," Dean added. "And you think—"

"I know," Crowley interrupted. "I'll stake my reputation. That vaccine is chock full of grade A, farm fresh Croatoan virus."

Sam scoffed at their bad luck.

Closing his eyes, Dean shook his head.

"Simultaneous country-wide distribution," Sam sighed, nodding. "That's quite a plan."

"Ya don't get to be Horseman for nothing," Crowley told them. "So you boys better stock up on…" He looked into their artillery trunk. " _Everything_. This time next Thursday… we'll all be living in Zombieland."

Dean and Sam looked at each other.

Well…

 _Shit_.


	33. Chapter Thirty-Two

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXXII**.

"Don't even try it," Chloe warned, looking over her shoulder at Dean as he stepped into the room they usually took up in at Bobby's house.

He sighed, shoulders slumping. Stepping out of the doorway, he closed it behind him and walked to sit at the edge of the bed. "Look… You go with Sam, you're surrounded by demons out to inject you with Croatoan virus and I hate to break it to ya, but we don't have a real vaccine for that." He threw his hands up imploringly.

She rolled her eyes.

"You come with me and we're _literally_ going to find Death." He stared up at her seriously. "You can see how the options here are pretty limited."

Turning around, she crossed her arms over her chest. "I know you're worried, but I'm not going to camp out here at Bobby's and wait for the storm to pass." Crossing the room to stand in front of him, she put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed. "There are two reasons I'm going with you and not Sam… One is that as bad ass as I am with a gun," She grinned, "I don't want to take any of their attention away from what they need to be doing. It's going to be fast-paced and I refuse to be the Mary-Jane calling for help." Sliding her palms up, she kneaded his neck.

"And two?" he asked, staring up at her.

"Two…" She scoffed under her breath. "You're going off to meet Death, Dean… I won't let you do that alone."

"There you go again," he muttered, grabbing her hips and dragging her down to sit in his lap. "Arguing with me." Still, he rested his chin on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her close. "You'll stay in the car?" he asked hopefully.

Stroking his neck, she said, "It's unlikely."

He snorted, shook his head and just held her for awhile.

…

Outside, Cas was loading the van with guns and ammo, Bobby lending a hand. Pausing next to the open door, he stared up at the sky and sighed.

Bobby zipped up an army green duffel bag of guns in his lap and caught sight of Castiel's forlorn expression. "What's _your_ problem?"

"This is what they mean by the eleventh hour, right?"

He pursed his lips, bobbing his head. "Pretty much."

"Well it's the eleventh hour and I am _useless_."

Pausing, Bobby looked up at him.

Cas waved the shotgun in his hand. "All I have is this. What am I even supposed to do with it?"

"Point it and _shoot_ ," he snapped back sarcastically.

He shook his head. "What I used to be…"

"Are you really going to bitch… to _me?_ "

Cas turned toward him, at Bobby, a man who had spent the majority of his life fighting, stuck in a wheelchair. His eyes fell, despite even knowing _that_ he couldn't help but envy what he'd been.

Bobby grabbed the wheels of his chair and moved himself forward. "Quit pinin' for the Varsity years," he told him, tossing his bag across for Cas to catch, "and load the damn truck." With a frown, he rolled himself back around and away.

Cas watched him go, sighing to himself before he threw the bag in and closed the door.

…

Dean slammed the trunk down and walked over to stand next to Chloe, sliding an arm around her shoulder. Across from them Sam stood by the van.

Half-smiling, Dean said, "All right, well… Good luck stoppin' the whole zombie apocalypse."

Bobby snorted, sitting back in his chair.

"Yeah," Sam said, brows high, "Good luck killin' Death."

Cocking his head, eyes wide with sarcasm, he nodded. "Yeah."

Sighing, Castiel looked between them.

Laughing under his breath, Sam turned to his brother. "Remember when we just used to… hunt _wendigos_? How simple things were."

Brows narrow, he cocked them up and shook his head. "Not really."

Scoffing, Sam nodded. "Well, um…" He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the demon killing knife, pausing to glance at it before he held it up. "You might need this."

Lips pursed, he reached out to take it.

"Keep it," Crowley interrupted. "Dean's covered." He lifted up a hand-held scythe for them to see. "Death's own. Kills, _golly_ … Demons and angels and reapers and, rumor has it, the very thing itself."

Brows furrowed, the two brothers looked down at it and then at each other.

"How did you get that?" Castiel demanded.

Crowley looked back at him, face widening with arrogance, " _Hello._ King of the Crossroads. _So…_ " He turned back to Dean. "Shall we?" He glanced back, eyes falling on Bobby. "Bobby… Ya just gonna sit there?"

Scowling, he retorted, "No, I'm gonna _river dance!_ "

"Well I suppose, if you wanna impress the ladies," he scoffed.

Sam stared at him, eyes narrowed.

Taking a breath, he sighed, "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby… _Really_ wasted that crossroads deal." He frowned for emphasis.

Bobby cocked his head questioningly.

"Fact, you _get_ more if you phrase it properly. _So,_ I took the liberty of adding a teeny little sub-A-clause on your behalf."

Sam glanced at his brother, lifting his brows in surprise.

"What can I say?" Crowley looked between the two Winchesters. "I'm an _altruist._ " Turning sideways, he lifted a brow at Bobby. "Just gonna sit there?"

Everybody turned to stare at him.

Looking down at himself, at his chair, Bobby tried to move his feet, looking up, shocked, when his right foot wiggled upon command. Placing it on the ground, he gripped the handles of his chair and leaned forward, pushing himself up slowly, carefully, part of him scared it might all just be a trick. Finally, he shoved himself up, standing straight and tall; the feeling back in his legs. He looked down in shocked awe.

Sam grinned, turning to look at Dean and then a smiling Chloe.

Looking up, Bobby breathed, "Sonuvabitch."

"Yes, I know, completely worth your soul," Crowley shrugged off with a smug grin. "I'm a helluva guy."

He stared back at him a long moment before whispering, "Thanks."

With an indrawn breath, he sighed. "This is getting maudlin." He looked back at Dean and then motioned toward the Impala. "Can we go?" Not bothering to wait, he walked over to the car.

Chuckling, Bobby grinned at them, receiving the same back from both boys. Breathing heavily, he had to look back down at himself once more to believe it was all real.

When Crowley honked the horn, they knew it was time to go through.

Chloe stepped up and hugged Bobby tight. "I always knew you'd be taller than me," she murmured in his ear.

Laughing, he squeezed her back. "Hell, I might just get to dance at your and Dean's weddin'."

Grinning, she drew back. "Be safe."

He nodded before making his way to the van.

Sam came over, half-smiling. "Watch his back," he asked.

"I will," she assured before glancing at Cas. "He needs coffee or he gets cranky. He doesn't like decaf and don't bother putting anything in it; he only likes it black."

Chuckling under his breath, he nodded. "Any more directions?"

She smirked. "Only that you be careful."

"I will." Leaning down, he hugged her close. "Follow your own orders," he told her.

She squeezed him agreeably.

Backing up from her, Sam nodded a silent goodbye to Dean and walked around to the van.

Chloe turned toward Cas, smiling.

"For God's sakes, you're only goin' to Chicago!" Crowley called out from the car.

"Shut up," she shouted back. "And get in the backseat!"

"Bloody hell…" he muttered.

"Hug?" she asked Castiel.

His eyes fell. "If that's what you want."

Laughing, she shook her head. "In this, at least, you can follow the crowd." Grabbing his hands, she dragged him over and hugged him. "You're human now, or partly anyway… Try not to get killed."

"What's the average time-span a hug must last?" he wondered.

Snorting, she drew back from him. "As long or as short as you want." Shrugging, she squeezed his shoulder before stepping back and taking Dean's hand.

"Take care," Dean said, nodding toward him.

Together, they walked to the Impala and climbed in on either side, watching worriedly as the van pulled out and away from the house.

Crowley sat forward. "I don't see why I have to sit in the back."

"Ya keep whinin' you're goin' in the trunk." Dean smirked back at him. "And there's a Devil's Trap in there, too."

"The thanks I get," he sighed, sitting back in his seat.

…

After leaving the house, Sam explained his plan to Castiel, who sat in the back of the van, just behind and between the two seats.

"Yes to Lucifer," Cas murmured thoughtfully, "then jump in the hole. It's an interesting plan."

"That's a word for it," Bobby muttered.

"So… Go ahead and tell me it's the worst plan you ever heard," Sam sighed knowingly.

"Of course, I am happy to say that if that's what you want to hear," he agreed. "But it's not what I think."

Brows furrowed, Sam looked back at him. "Really?"

Turning his head, he stared out the front window, sighing. "You and Dean have a habit of exceeding my expectations. You resisted Michael, maybe you _could_ resist Lucifer." He looked back at him. "But there are things that you would need to know."

"Like?"

"Michael has found another vessel."

Both Bobby and Sam looked at him in surprise.

"What?" Sam asked.

"It's your brother, Adam." He stared at him. "You must have considered it."

"Yeah, we were trying not to."

His eyes fell. "Sam…" He looked up at him sadly. "If you say _yes_ to Lucifer, and then fail, this fight _will_ happen. And the _collateral_ …" He scoffed. "It'll me immense."

They sat in silent a moment, letting it sink in.

"There's also the demon blood," Cas added.

"What? What're you talkin' about?"

"To take in Lucifer would be more than you've ever drunk."

"But… _Why?_ "

"Strengthens the vessel." He looked him up and down and explained, "Keeps it from exploding."

"But the guy he's in now—"

"He's drinking gallons."

Sighing, Sam's eyes darted back and forth with the new information.

"And _how_ is that not the worst plan you've ever heard?" Bobby grumbled.

Turning his head, Sam stared out the window, thinking, wondering…

…

They were hardly on the road an hour before Crowley got personal.

" _So…_ what's with you two not shaggin' each other's brains out then?" he asked suddenly, looking between them as he sidled to the end of his seat.

Rolling her eyes, she turned to cock a brow at him. " _Really?_ That's what qualifies as road trip conversation to you?"

He shrugged. "I'm a _demon_ , love. I don't shy away from the fun stuff."

Sighing, she shook her head. "We're not having this conversation."

"She's a bit of a prude then. That it?" He sighed. "Well, too bad. Chemistry's all there. Bad luck there, eh, Deano."

"You wanna go in the trunk?" Dean replied back, lips pursed.

Holding his hands up, Crowley widened his eyes. "Touchy little couple, aren't you?" Sitting back, he sighed in boredom. "Any subjects I _can_ discuss?"

"Feel free to spill the beans on anything apocalypse related," she drawled back.

"'Cause if I had that information it wouldn't help me in the _least_ to pass it on to you lot…" he muttered sarcastically.

She scoffed. "You seem to like doling it out at your own pace, to what suits _your_ needs."

"Been doin' a lot of listenin' then? Got me all figured out?" Leaning forward, he looked her up and down thoughtfully. "Smart little thing, aren't you?"

Staring back at him darkly, she replied, "I have my moments."

His mouth curled in a smile. "The situation here's simple… I can get what I want from you and so I'll help you along to save my own hide… There's nothing more to it, really."

Turning around, she stared at him. "And if we happen to suffer the consequences?"

Eyes narrowed, he replied. "You _agreed_ to this… Any suffering that comes along is just the price you pay for saving the world and everybody in it."

"But it's not the world you're worried about…" She frowned. "Just yourself."

"Think of it this way…" He leaned in toward her. "If right now, it came down to saving yourself or saving…" His eyes cut to the left. "Dean… Who'd you save?"

Jaw clenched, she replied easily, "Dean."

The man in question's jaw ticked at her answer, his hands tightening around the wheel.

Head turned to the side, Crowley nodded slowly. "And he'd do the same… The problem with humans is too much _emotion_ gets in the way of their fight or flight instinct." His brow lifted imperiously. "While you two are busy saving each other's bacon, I'm focusin' on gettin' myself outta the fire… If you two happen to get burned in the fallout, well…" He shrugged. "We all made our choices, didn't we?"

Chloe shook her head. "And what's so worth saving yourself over?" She stared at him searchingly. "When it's all over… What do you really _get_ out of it?"

"To live…" He lifted his chin and sat back. "Just like you get to _love_." As his words sunk in, he clapped his hands. "Right then, change of subject… Ever played the game 'I Never'?" He smirked. "'Cause I've got a bottle of whiskey, _not_ watered down, and very few things I haven't done…" He wiggled his brows suggestively.

Chuckling under her breath, Chloe leaned back in her seat. "Because meeting Death _drunk_ is definitely the best way to go."

"Liquid courage, Kitten." Unscrewing the bottle, he winked at her before downing a long sip.

She looked over at Dean who lifted a shoulder in a hey-what-can-we-do manner.

Maybe he'd be easier to put up with drunk.

She hoped.

…

"Yup," Bobby said, eyeing the trucks backing up into the Niveus warehouse. "They're loadin' up hotshots of Croatoan in the trucks." Lowering his binoculars, he said, "Okay, first truck don't leave for an hour. We get in, we plant the C-4, every twenty-five feet, then we pull a fire alarm-"

Cas stared out the window and pointed. "Uh, that truck is leaving."

Turning back, they watched as a yellow five ton with the blue Niveus stamp on the side began pulling away.

" _Balls!_ " Bobby cursed. "Okay, new plan…"

As the van pulled up toward the gates, the driver leaned out to put his security card through the swiper. Cas reached up and grabbed his arm, pulling him down and punching him sharply in the face once and then a second time before he fell unconscious against the wheel, his head landing heavily on the horn and blaring loudly.

Climbing up onto the foot ledge, Cas pushed the driver back from the wheel and turned around to break the card swiper so the gate would stop opening, trapping all the trucks inside.

Inside the warehouse, a demon, his eyes black, hit the button to close the warehouse doors before telling a colleague, "It's the Winchesters."

"Well then let's bake 'em up a little treat," the man returned, walking to a box of Croatoan virus and using a knife to tear it open before dragging out a box of filled needles and making his way toward the human workers.

Getting to the roll-down steel doors just as they shut, Sam looked back to Bobby, who hurried around the corner to where a door was, banging coming from the other side as the people trapped there tried to get out.

"Get back!" Sam yelled at them before backing up, aiming his gun and shooting the lock out.

Pulling it open, they freed the workers, telling them, "Go! Go! Move!" before entering themselves, guns at the ready.

The warehouse was eerily quiet, with only the snap of the door closing behind them.

Shrugging off his bag from his shoulders, Sam dropped it to the floor at his feet and eyed their surroundings, searching out any people.

Groans of pain could be heard and as Sam and Bobby circled a tall flat of boxes, they found a crowd of workers surrounding a man, tearing him to pieces. Standing at their arrival, eyes an infected blood-red, the men looked to Sam and Bobby for a new fight.

Rolling his shoulders, Sam took a deep breath and with a purse of his lips, brows furrowed, he raised his gun, _ready_.

…

Arriving in Chicago, Crowley directed them to the warehouse his sources told them Death was waiting. With the Impala parked beneath a bridge, Chloe, Dean and Crowley climbed out and started walking. The sky was grey with clouds and the wind chilly as it whipped around them, forcing them each to stuff their hands into pockets to ward off the cold. Drawing her own out to blow warm air into and rub together, Chloe stuck close to Dean, who'd purposely put himself between her and Crowley. She found it interesting how he trusted the demon for information, but didn't trust him enough to be too close to _her_.

Seeing her continue to blow hot air into her freezing hands, Dean rolled his eyes, reached over and grabbed them, rubbing his own palms over each of them until hers were toasty warm. She smiled to herself, amused by how he tried to take care of her but always looked like he was almost irritated he was doing so.

"Hey…" Crowley said, drawing their attention, "Let's stop for pizza."

Dean looked over at him, his brows furrowed. Threading his fingers with hers, their hands hanging between them, he asked, "You kiddin'?"

"Just heard it was good, that's all," he replied with a shrug.

Looking down at her, Dean lifted a brow.

She shook her head in reply; she honestly couldn't be sure _what_ went through Crowley's head half the time.

Just as they stepped past a chain-link fence, the demon's arm rose and his hand slapped against Dean's chest, stopping him. "Up ahead, big ugly building." Wind sent leaves flying around in the wet, empty street in front of them. "Ground zero. Horseman's stable, if you will." He frowned, nodding his head up. "He's in there."

Dean stared at the big warehouse, nothing very out of the ordinary about it. "How d'you _know?_ "

"Have you _met_ me?" he retorted arrogantly. "'Cause I know."

Sighing, he turned away from him.

"Also, the block is… _squirming_ with reapers."

Unseen by the human eye, dozens of reapers stood staring at the warehouse, dressed in black trench coats, attention never wavering.

"Be right back." Crowley walked into the street and blinked out of sight.

They were hardly waiting two seconds before they heard his voice behind them. "Boy is my face red."

Whirling, Dean shoved her behind his back instinctively, eyes widening as he stared back at Crowley.

Looking around him to Chloe, he lifted a shoulder. "Death's not in there."

Brows knotted, he swiped a hand through the air irritably. "You wanna cut the cute and get to the part where you tell us where he is?"

"Sorry." He frowned, turning to walk away. "I dunno."

Chasing after him, Dean growled, "Whoa-whoa- _whoa_ …" He grabbed his shoulder, stopping him, and then walked to stand in front of him questioningly. "You don't _know!_ "

"Signs pointed," he exclaimed before walking past him once more. "I-I'm just as shocked as you."

"And we're supposed to take your word for it?" Chloe argued.

"Bobby sold his _soul_ for this!" Dean growled angrily.

Crowley turned back, eyes narrowed. " _Relax_. All deals are sold back or store-credit. We'll catch Death in the next doomed city."

"Millions, Crowley!" he exclaimed. "Millions of people are going to die any minute!" He shook his head, angry that the demon couldn't understand.

"True." Sarcastically, he added, "So I strongly suggest we get out of here." Turning, he walked back toward the Impala.

They watched him go before Dean lifted a hand and rubbed at his brow, sighing.

"So what do we do?" Chloe wondered.

He scoffed. "Hell, I dunno. Call in a massive bomb warning?"

Circling to stand in front of him, Chloe took either side of his coat and tugged, drawing his eyes to hers. "So our options are limited, I know… But I'm behind you on whatever you decide to do." She smiled slowly. "Even if it's stab Crowley a few times, just to get a little frustration out." She winked.

He laughed under is breath, mouth lifting at the corners. Wrapping his arms around her shoulder, he held her close against his chest, resting his chin on her head. "Just a few times?"

"Few _dozen?_ " she suggested.

He chuckled.

The honking of a horn drew their attention. "I want _pizza!"_ Crowley shouted at them.

"Can I have a few shots at him?" she asked, darkly.

He snorted. "Joint effort."

…

While Chloe and Dean were trying to figure out a way to save Chicago, confused and scared workers at the Niveus warehouse were fighting off their enraged, blood-hungry co-workers.

Trapped on metal stairs, one woman kept kicking at a man, trying to keep him from dragging her down for only God knows what kind of end. Kicking him in the face, she scurried higher, only to have him drag her right back down. Suddenly a shot rang out and she turned on her side to see an unknown man shooting both the guy who'd been pulling her down and another suffering the same effects a few feet away. "You okay?" her savior asked, his voice deep and growly.

Nodding, she shifted her chin up to warn him of the man coming at his back.

Turning, he bashed his fist and gun into his attacker's face and then shot him dead.

Near the front of the warehouse, Bobby watched as an infected man came running out from the cover of the tall box stacks. He raised his shotgun and took deadly aim. But just behind him, another woman appeared, and with her was Sam, warning him that these people weren't infected, but instead just victims of the chaos. "Go! Go!" Bobby told them, waving his gun toward the door.

Letting them run away, Sam paused to look at Bobby and then pumped his shotgun, ready to go back in. Eyes alert, he started walking back into the mess, ready to do battle with whatever came.

Bobby watched, brows furrowed when he heard shot after shot as Sam continued his heroics.

…

Sitting in the Impala, Chloe and Dean exchanged a look before he turned back and glared at Crowley and then returned his gaze to stare out at the blustery streets before him, the wind and rain coming down in an angry whipping motion. "So what? How the hell am I supposed to get three million people outta Chicago in the next ten minutes?" He turned to look back at Crowley only to realize the bastard had disappeared. "Come on…" he sighed, throwing his hands up.

"Isn't that…" Chloe motioned outside the window at a man that looked suspiciously like the demon in question leaning down and peering around a corner.

Dean's eyes thinned wonderingly.

Looking back, Crowley motioned down the alley and mouthed something at them.

Eyes wide, his brows lifted. "What?" He glanced at Chloe. "Can you-?"

Crowley continued to mouth words and point.

Dean flipped his hands up. "Yeah, I can't hear you!"

"I _said_ ," Crowley replied, startling them as he reappeared in the backseat once more, making them both jump, "I _found_ him." He pursed his lips. "Death. He's in there." He pointed at the building he'd just been scoping out.

Staring out the window, Dean read the sign above the building: Rinascita Pizzeria. He pursed his lips and glanced at Chloe.

"I'm coming," she told him simply.

"Sure, why not make it a family field-trip," Crowley mocked.

With a heavy sigh, he climbed out of the car, holding his door open. Leaning back down, he asked Crowley, "Are you coming or-?" only to find him missing once more. "Not," he muttered to himself.

"You've got the scythe?" Chloe asked, circling the Impala to stand next to him.

He opened his coat to show her where it lay snug inside his pocket.

She nodded before looking both ways down the road and hurrying across next to him.

Just as they were about to go down the alley, thinking to make their way in through the back, Dean stopped her. "If things get hairy in there…" He stared at her searchingly.

"I'll save your ass and we learn our lesson on sneaking up on horseman," she replied shortly.

His jaw ticked. "You save your _own_ ass, you get the hell outta Chicago and you find Sam."

She rolled her eyes, lips pursed. "Dean—"

"Death is sitting inside there, Chloe. And I don't mean some bag-o-bones skeleton you see on Saturday cartoons, all right?" He cupped her face firmly, needing her to take this seriously. "We've gotten by on luck through a lot of this and there's a pretty good chance it'll run out any damn second now. So I need to know that you'll do the smart thing…" Dragging his thumbs across her cheeks, he lifted his brows. "I need to know you'll be okay."

Swallowing thickly, she nodded.

He sighed lowly, his shoulders slumping in mild relief. "Just stay out of sight, all right?"

"'Kay."

Taking her hand, he squeezed it, and together they hurried down the dark alley, only to bend low and pick the lock on the back door leading into the pizzeria.

"I could've done that in five seconds flat."

He smirked up at her. "Love you, too."

…

Bobby stabbed the demon killing knife deep into a possessed man's gut and stood back as he fell to the ground, sparking and writhing before he finally blinked out.

"Go!" Sam exclaimed, running next to a man and a woman and shoving them toward the exit before he came to a stop in front of Bobby, breathing heavily. He cocked his head, "All clear."

Bobby nodded. "Good."

Suddenly, a man was running full-out just to Sam's right.

"Sam!" Bobby yelled, noticing him too late.

Tackling him to the ground, the infected man gripped Sam's throat tight and squeezed. Grabbing at his wrists, Sam tried to fight him off to no avail. The white surrounding his attacker's blue eyes was mottled in blood, the Croatoan virus thick in his veins and pushing his rage past the point of human.

Struggling to reload his gun, Bobby watched worriedly as Sam fought for both air and freedom.

The barrel of a shotgun hit the infected man's temple and the shot blew both his head away and his weight from off of Sam.

Gasping for air, Sam looked up to see Cas holding a gun thoughtfully.

Examining it, he said, "Actually, these things _can_ be useful." With a cocked brow, he looked down at Sam, frowning.

"Can we commit our act of domestic terrorism already?" Bobby asked sarcastically.

Rubbing his chest, Sam blinked furiously and lifted to try and sit up.

This was just getting more and more fun…

 _Not_.

…

Pushing the door open that led from the back kitchens into the dining room, Dean surveyed the area, spotting a dead waitress slumped against the floor. Reaching back, he squeezed Chloe's hand, and slowly they stepped out, closing the door behind them with a quiet click that still made him flinch. Walking further into the restaurant, past checkered cloth covered tables, a second dead waitress, and a dead couple, Dean was second-guessing himself on both letting Chloe come and walking in himself. He squeezed his eyes closed momentarily with each step he took, waiting for the one that might alert Death to his presence.

Scythe in his freehand, he turned down an aisle, glancing at the many dead people occupying tables and freed Chloe's hand, waving for her to stop and wait there. There was only one man alive, sitting at a table in the center, alone. Brows furrowed intensely, Dean began walking toward him quietly. It was only a few steps, however, before the scythe began shaking in his grip, the handle heating up. Looking down, he could see at is turned an angry, vicious red beneath his palm. Wincing, he screwed up his face, trying not to drop it despite the pain. Finally, he could hold it no longer, and it slipped from his hand. Shoulders up near his ears, he frowned, eyes darting toward the man who sat just ten or so feet away.

"Thanks for returning that," the man said simply.

Dean looked down, not once, but twice, as he realized the scythe was really gone, no longer lying at his feet where he'd dropped it.

Brows furrowed, his eyes rose, spotting it there on the table next to Death's arm. Swallowing, his shoulders fell in dawning defeat.

"Join me, Dean," Death invited. "The pizza's delicious."

With the rain pouring outside and a crackle of lightening, an ominous feeling had just taken hold of the pizzeria and Dean managed one last glance back at Chloe, who stared at him, her eyes wide, a hand over her mouth.

He started walking, his steps slow and short, fear clenching his chest.

"Don't be rude… Invite your wife."

He stopped, his heart hammering so hard it physically hurt. His eyes left the back of Death's head only to dart to where Chloe stood hidden behind a wall. "Sh-She's not here. She-"

"No games, Dean," he interrupted, tone dark. "We don't want to start this off with a _lie_ , do we?"

Chloe stepped forward quickly. "Of course not," she answered, hurrying down the three steps to stand at his side.

He stared down at her, teeth clenched.

She half-smiled back, though the look in her eyes was anything but relaxed. He imagined her fear was mirrored in his eyes, too.

Together, they crossed the last bit of space, coming to a stop just next to the table. Death ate a slice of thick pizza with a fork and knife, a silver pan holding the rest of it just to his left.

"Sit down," Death told them, never looking up from his meal.

Reaching over, Dean grabbed a second chair and put it down next to his; a few inches back as if he thought it might save Chloe somehow. Sitting, he wrapped a hand around Chloe's knee and felt her shaking. Her palm covered it, their fingers sliding together. Dean stared at Death, hoping he looked unaffected even as the situation brought dread to his every pore.

"Took you long enough to find me," Death said in an oddly quiet, reserved voice. "I've been wanting to talk to you."

He was a thin man, gaunt in the face and rather pale. With thin black hair that hung to his shoulder, it made the sharp angles of his face and the large shape of his nose stand out all the more.

"I gotta say…" He cocked his head, smiling, even as he gripped Chloe's knee tight. "Mixed feelings about that." He blew out a shaky breath, wishing his bravado was a little more in tune. "So is this the part where…" He cleared his throat. "Where you kill us?" He smiled humorlessly.

Looking up from his food, Death stared at him a long moment before saying, "You have an inflated sense of your importance." He cocked his head to the side. "To a thing like me, a thing like _you_ , well…" He lifted his glass to sip water from his pink straw. "Think how you would feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky." He stared up at him through dark, warning eyes.

The storm brewing outside had lightening fill the room, giving him an even more eerie and vengeful glow.

Chloe's fingers bit into his and he flicked his thumb up as if to soothe her. There wasn't much else he could do.

Brows furrowed, he simply stared back at Death, not sure how to take his words or their meaning.

"This is one little planet, it one tiny solar system, in a galaxy that's barely out of its _diapers_ ," he continued, his _death_ -stare properly named. "I'm _old_ , Dean. Very _old_. So I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you."

Dean stared back at him, a sense of shock freezing his face.

Finally, Death reached over and lifted two pieces of pizza from the pan, placing them on a plate. "Eat," he told them.

Chloe and Dean exchanged a look before he turned the plate toward them and picked up a knife and fork. With a tight swallow, he cut off a piece for himself and raised it toward his mouth, all the while questioning whether he was going to die via a very painful poisoning. Taking it into his mouth, he chewed slowly.

"Good… Isn't it?" Death asked, brows lifting, before his eyes cut toward Chloe. "Manners suggest you share."

Gaze turning toward her, he cut off a second, smaller piece and handed it over. Slowly, Chloe reached out and took it, swallowing thickly and licking her lips.

Taking another bite of his pizza, Death continued with his meal completely at ease.

Food lodged in his cheek, Dean shook his head. "Well I gotta ask…" Chewing, he raised his eyes toward Death and finished, "How old are you?"

Looking down at his plate, shoulders faintly stooped, he replied, "As old as God… Maybe older." He sliced his pizza into pieces. "Life, death, chicken, egg, regardless…" He took another bite. "At the end, I will reap him, too."

Dean's eyes widened in surprise. He glanced at Chloe and then back at Death. " _God?_ You'll _reap_ God?"

"Oh yes," he said, raising his head once more. "God will die too, Dean."

Brows high, he brought his head back in shock, eyes falling to stare at his pizza thoughtfully. Swallowing thickly, he admitted, "Well, this is way above my pay-grade."

Eyes catching his once more, Death murmured, "Just a bit."

Nodding slowly, he struggled for words before asking, "So why are we still breathing? Sitting here with you…?"

Reaching out, Chloe gripped his arm and squeezed, silently asking him not to ask questions when the answers could be lethal.

His brows furrowed. "What do you want?"

"The leash around my neck _off_ ," he replied, his tone much darker now.

Dean cocked his head questioningly.

"Lucifer has me bound to him. Some un _seemly_ little spell," he sneered unappreciatively. "He has me _where_ he wants, _when_ he wants. That's why I couldn't go to _you_ ; I had to wait for _you_ to catch up."

"Being _who_ you are, _what_ you are… How can Lucifer get a handle on you at all?" Chloe wondered.

Death's lips pursed. "We are not all as impenetrable as we might seem, my dear…" He lifted a brow. "Weaknesses come in many forms."

Dean's eyes narrowed in thought.

Laying his fork and knife down, Death continued, "He made me his _weapon_. Hurricanes, floods, _raising_ the dead… I'm more powerful than you can process and I'm enslaved to a bratty child having a temper-tantrum."

His brows quirked skeptically. "And you think… _I_ can unbind you?"

"There's your _ridiculous_ bravado again, of course you can't." He cut his eyes toward Chloe. "How _do_ you put up with that?"

She managed a half-smile. "It grows on you."

"You must me more _adaptable_ than most." He turned back to Dean. "What you _can_ do is take the _bullets_ out of Lucifer's gun."

Dean blinked.

"I understand…" Death leaned forward, raising his hand to put his ring on display, "You want this." He stared at him intensely.

Dean looked down and then up, brows lifting. "Yeah…"

"I'm inclined to give it to you."

" _Give_ it to me?"

He cocked his head. "That's what I said."

His eyes darted questioningly. Frowning, he asked, "But what about… Chicago?"

Silently staring, he finally replied, "I suppose it can stay…" He shook his head side to side. "I like the pizza." Reaching up, he removed the ring from his finger.

Dean struggled for words, his brows knotted.

Death held the ring out for him before nodding shortly. "There are conditions…"

He nearly looked to Chloe but managed to keep his eyes forward. "Okay, like?"

Death glanced at her knowingly. "Don't worry. I have no intentions of separating you… _Yet_."

While his words sunk in, Dean felt a pit in his stomach that threatened to swallow him whole.

Eyes dark, Death told him, "You have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell."

He frowned, lifting a brow. "Of course."

" _Whatever_ it takes."

He nodded. "That's the plan," he said sarcastically.

"No. No plan, not yet."

He stared at him in confusion.

"Your brother. He's the one that can stop Lucifer. The only one."

Mouth parting, he finally said, "Wait, you think—"

"I _know_ …"

Dean cut a look at him sharply.

"There will be other players… Other _reasons_ … But it's your brother who will finally put an end to all of this."

His eyes fell.

"So I need a promise…" Death continued. "You're gonna let your brother jump right in to that fiery pit."

Jaw ticking, he swallowed thickly, eyes falling to the ring, of which Death held out to him.

"Well? Do I have your word?"

He stared back, wanting to argue, put up a fight, and then his gaze fell once more to the ring, to the last piece to their survival. Licking his lip, he said, "Okay, yeah. _Yes_."

He held his hand out, palm up.

"That had better be _yes_ , Dean…" His eyes turned to Chloe pointedly before returning to Dean. "You know you can't cheat death."

Mouth falling open, the air left his chest in a pained whoosh and the ring fell heavy into his palm.

"Now… Would you like the instruction manual?"

…

The drive from Chicago to Sioux Falls was quiet; the thick blanket of silence spoke such loud volumes it caused headaches. Chloe stared out the window, her mind far away, repeating everything Death had said, questioning nuances, wording… Sam had to do what Dean was dead set against, what Dean promised he'd even _encourage_ his brother to do. Say _yes_ to the devil.

She wanted to believe in Sam. She wanted to support him in this. And now that it seemed even _Death_ believed he was the key to saving the world, she thought they could have it right. But if this happened, if Sam let the devil in, what then? If he jumped into that pit… What happened to him? Her eyes darted to Dean, to his brooding expression and his hands gripping the steering wheel tight, knuckles a stark, telling white. He'd agreed, but would he do it? This was his little brother they were talking about; his _best friend_. And yes, she'd told Sam that if anything happened to him, she would be there for Dean, but… How could she make any of this better? How was she supposed to help him through this?

She'd hardly known Sam more than a month but the thought of him not being there… It _hurt_. She just got a brother and losing him felt like it wasn't an option. So how was Dean going to accept that? Because people didn't just hop into the likes of hell and walk out unscathed, did they? That would be too easy; too wishful-thinking on her part.

It was simple, really.

Sam said yes. And if it worked, he and Lucifer went back into the devil's cage, apocalypse averted, and Sam was lost to them. Forever. Sacrifices must be made. Except… Now that it could happen, now that they could really lose him, she felt like they'd be giving up too much.

She wanted to reach out to Dean, to soothe him somehow or tell him it was all going to be okay, only… it wasn't and she didn't want to lie to him. There was a very good chance that this was all going to go pear-shaped really soon… and she wasn't sure Dean could survive without his brother. So where did that leave any of them?

…

It was the following day when Dean found himself out in the old shed at Singer Salvage. He needed time alone, to think, to question every damn thing about what was happening.

He stared at the fourth Horseman ring and then to the three sitting on the old picnic table in front of him. Dropping Death's in with the others, he pushed it forward slowly, watching as the two others adhered to one in the middle and all four drew together like they were magnetized. He drew in a deep breath and let it out shakily. Jesus Christ, this was all so fucked up.

The sound of metal scraping pavement drew his attention and Dean looked up to see Bobby standing across from him.

Forcing himself to look less than worried, he asked, "Well, how'd it go with the Rockette's audition?" He smirked.

Walking over, a couple of beers swinging casually at his sides, Bobby sighed, shaking his head and lifting a shoulder dismissively. "High kick's fair; boobs need work."

Eyes wide, he lifted his brows, amused as he nodded.

"I walked up and down stairs all night for no damn reason…"

He half-smiled knowingly. "Yeah… Chloe mentioned something."

He laughed happily. "I'm _sore_ …" Shaking his head, he looked back at him. "Feels so good… Scared it's a dream." He frowned. "But then I remember that… the world's dyin' bloody, so…" He lifted his arms up in a shrug and then held out a beer. "Drink?"

Dean took it, tipping it in thanks before he unscrewed the top. Looking up at Bobby, he said, "Check it out," and dropped his bottle to the side before reaching out toward the rings. Separating the middle from Death's, he drew it back and then pushed them close again, drawing all four together.

Bobby spit his beer back into his bottle in surprise. "Hmm," he said. He reached toward them but then drew his hand back, sighing. "So Death told you how to operate those? The whole deal?"

Frowning, Dean lifted up the rings, all stuck together. "Yeah, it's nuts…" He looked them over, side to side, twisting and turning them. "'Course I got bigger problems now…"

"Really? Like?"

Pursing his lips, he cocked his brows, looking away. "Whadda you think Death does to people who lie to his face?" He stared askance up at Bobby.

Shrugging, he cocked his head, frowning. "Nothin' good." He took a seat at the picnic table across from him.

He frowned. "Yeah."

"What'd ya say?"

He glanced away. "That I was cool with Sam drivin' the bus on the whole Lucifer plan." He tipped his beer back, wishing it were something harder. Screwing up his face, he shook his head. "He kinda… I mean he didn't right out say it, but…" Swallowing tightly, he told him, "I don't get Sam to jump then…" He pursed his lips. "I think Death's payback's gonna be aimed at me… through Chloe."

Bobby stared at him, shook his head and sighed. "So what're you thinkin' of doin'?"

His jaw clenched. "He's _not_ jumping," he said seriously.

"And if Death _does_ come for Chloe?" he wondered.

Death cut his eyes toward him. "I'll take care of it."

"Yeah," he scoffed. "Hell, this sounds like a crossroads deal waitin' to happen."

Rolling his eyes, he looked away. "So what? I tell Sammy to do it so I can keep Chloe alive? You think that's the right choice?"

"I _think_ it's not just up to you."

His brows furrowed.

"Look, Dean… Sam _wants_ to do this… and Chloe isn't arguing."

"Yeah, 'cause she thinks it's all up to Sam… That we shouldn't get a say in what he thinks he's strong enough to do."

"And maybe it is."

"Damn it, Bobby!" he growled. "Sammy can't _handle_ that."

"Says _you_."

He slammed his hand down on the picnic table "Yeah and I think I'm a better judge!"

"You can't have it _both_ ways, Dean!" He shook his head. "Just like you. You're always trying to have your pie an' eat it too."

He stared back, brows furrowed.

Grumbling under his breath, Bobby looked away, sipping his beer in silence. But finally, he asked, "So Death thinks Sam oughtta say yes, huh?"

Shoulders slumped, Dean stared down at the table, brooding. "I dunno…" He nodded. "Yeah."

"Hmm…"

"But I mean of course he'd say that," he argued, "He _works_ for Lucifer."

"Against his will, thought he said," Bobby reminded.

"Well, I say take his _sob_ story with a fat grain of _salt_. I mean he is _Death_ …"

"Exactly." He scoffed. "He's Death… Think of the kinda bird's eye view."

Brows furrowed, he asked, "Seriously?"

"I'm just sayin'…" he shrugged.

"Well don't." He shook his head. "And what happened to you bein' _against_ this?"

"Look, I'm not sayin' Sam isn't ass-full of character defects, but…"

"But _what?_ "

"Back at Niveus…" He sighed. "I watched that kid pull one civilian out after another…" His face screwed up. "He musta saved _ten_ people. Never stopped, never slowed down." He shook his head. "We're hard on him, Dean. We've always been. But… In the meantime, he's been runnin' into burnin' buildings since he was… _what?_ Twelve?"

Dean looked down, brows knotted. "Pretty much."

"Look, Sam's got a… _darkness_ in him…" He looked up, shaking his head. "I'm not sayin' he don't. But he's got a helluva lotta good in him, too."

Looking away, his head fell, mouth curled in a humorless smile. "I know."

"Then you _know_ Sam will _beat_ the devil. Or die tryin'. That's the best we could ask for." His eyes thinned. "So I gotta ask, Dean…" He sighed. "What exactly are you afraid of?"

Dean looked up.

"Losin' Chloe…? Or losin' your brother?" He frowned seriously. "'Cause let's face it… one of 'em is gonna win us this war and the time's comin' you might just have to make a choice."

Swallowing thickly, his jaw ticked.

Choices. He fucking hated them.


	34. Chapter Thirty-Three

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXXIII**.

Dean's head wouldn't shut up. He'd spent half the night over-thinking, questioning himself and what could come of everything. What if they were right? What if Sammy really could handle all this? What if it was really up to Sam and not him? But then, even if it was, it wasn't like it was easy to let his brother jump into something this foolhardy. The consequences weren't a slap on the wrist. They didn't know for sure what happened if he jumped down in the cage, but it didn't look like it was going to be a cake-walk. He'd been to hell, still had the psychological scars to prove it, and he didn't want his brother to suffer anything similar.

If he let Sam do this, it could save everything, all that they'd been trying to do from the beginning. The world wouldn't suffer a total meltdown and the archangels would be sent to their corners, refused their world-ending war. But in the process, he could lose Sam. On the other hand, if he didn't let him do it, the whole world could bite it and then he almost definitely would lose Sam. Unless there was some kind of neighbor system in heaven… He pondered that idea for a minute and then rejected it. The silver-lining was hardly ever around anymore and there was no point considering what heaven might be like if he let this happen. And even if he did stop Sam from saying yes and they somehow saved the world, there was a pretty good chance Death was going to come knocking and take Chloe just because Dean had the audacity to lie to him. Whether they won or not, he didn't think Death was the type to ignore the fact that he'd just been duped by what he considered to be no better than _bacterium_.

So it came back to what Bobby said; a choice. The world, his brother, Chloe; what was the most important?

She laid next to him. Or, more appropriately, half on top of him. Leg stretched across him and an arm wrapped around his bare waist, her face was nuzzled into his shoulder, her body pressed close to his side. Peaceful, fearless, content; her face was utterly relaxed. Blonde hair lay in mussed tangles, curled around her ears and brushing her neck. Curtains open and the window letting in a cool breeze, the quarter moon lit their room faintly, sending shadows along the plains of her face, the hollows of her body. She was beautiful; he'd noticed that the second he laid eyes on her. But it was so much more than that… Even tossing out the destiny thing, there was so much that made Chloe who she was, that made her the woman he fell so damn hard for her that a life without her was unimaginable.

At the same time, Sam had always come first with him. Family, his brother, loyalty; he'd never failed to do what was always expected of him. Take care of Sam; keep him safe; do whatever it took. And now they were telling him that it wasn't up to him anymore, it wasn't his _choice_. But it felt like it was; even saying it was up to Sam was a choice. Because he knew his little brother wouldn't do it if he didn't give him the go-ahead. Even if it meant the world went up in flames, drenched in blood. They'd come a long way from a couple of brothers who hardly got along, who had entirely too much baggage, and who only ended up road-tripping because some yellow eyed demon bitch had effed with their family, their loved ones. And this was how it ended?

His brows furrowed.

It didn't sit right with him; not at all. Maybe he always expected that eventually the dust would settle and things could be as normal as they could get for a couple of screwed up hunters. Maybe he really was looking toward a brighter future; one where he and Chloe made it past forty, had a couple of kids and he went hunting with his brother for wendigos; like the old, easy days. And maybe they were never meant to get that. Always chasing dreams, hopes, and never quite catching them. _Close_ , he thought, looking down at Chloe, stroking a stand of blonde hair from her cheek. _So close_ …

It was some time around four am when he finally fell asleep; weighed down by decisions unmade. He held Chloe tight, closed his eyes and wished, just once, things would figure themselves out and keep the casualties to a minimum.

…

Laughter.

He walked into the kitchen to find Chloe and Sam laughing over something while Cas just looked confused. Brows furrowed, the angel held a large mug of coffee and stared, head cocked, at the two across from him. "I don't understand your logic."

Shaking his head, Sam just smiled at Chloe, and then looked up and caught sight of Dean. "You're up," he said, surprised.

Frowning, he crossed the room to the coffee pot. He felt like crap and could do with a few more hours, but when he woke up in an empty bed there was that same niggling feeling that he needed to know where Chloe was and if she was okay. "Yeah, and?" he replied roughly.

"It's before noon," he replied, amused.

Dean rolled his eyes even as a slight smile turned his lips. "Where's Bobby at?"

"He went into town for supplies," Chloe replied. "There's a plate in the microwave for you. We didn't think you'd be up for awhile yet, so it should still be hot."

He put it in for a minute anyway just to be sure and then joined them at the table. "What supplies was Bobby after?"

Sam half-grinned. "Everything…" He shrugged. "Says he doesn't know what's coming but he'll be ready for anything."

He snorted under his breath, reaching for his mug of black coffee. Seeing Cas' still confused face, he asked, "What's up your butt?"

"We suggested Cas reject coffee until the final showdown…" Chloe grinned slowly.

Sam lifted his brows for emphasis. "We thought the withdrawals might make him scarier."

Cas hugged his coffee cup closer. "I disagree with your assessment."

Chloe lifted her mug in cheers. "Spoken like a true addict."

Hearing the front door open, they all turned to see Bobby come into the room, arms full of bags. "You idjits gonna sit there or gimme a damn hand?" he growled, rolling his eyes.

Leaving their seats, they all went out to the truck to clear out the box of the ammo, salt, and various other weapons and deterrents he'd picked up.

"You clear out Wally World, Bobby?" Dean asked, hauling a giant bag of salt up over his shoulder.

"Doesn't hurt to be prepared," he blustered back, frowning.

"There's prepared and then there's overcompensating…" he muttered, climbing the stairs into the house. "Devil isn't gonna turn tail and run at the sight of salt."

"No, but his groupies might."

He sighed but didn't argue any more. It wasn't like he had any better ideas and it would come in handy eventually… If there _was_ an eventually after all this.

When everything was brought in and layered every imaginable surface, Bobby nodded in approval. "So… guess who rolled into town today?" he asked, leaning back against the sink with his arms crossed over his chest.

Sam eyes widened, brows lifting expectantly. "Lucifer?"

"Gettin' cynical, aren't ya?" he replied, frowning. "No. Justice of the Peace showed up." He turned to look at Chloe and Dean. "So if you two kids are still thinkin' of gettin' hitched…" He lifted a shoulder. "Can't see a better time."

Dean looked down at her, seeing the way she smiled up at him and nodded. "Yeah… You wanna come with Bobby? We'll see if he wouldn't mind comin' out tomorrow."

Chloe grinned. "Looks like I've got some shopping to do then." Hands on her hips, she stared at Sam. "You and the Angel of Caffeine are coming with…" It wasn't a suggestion.

At Dean's snort, Sam's shoulders deflating, drooping. "Shopping?" he asked regretfully.

"Will there be coffee involved?" Castiel asked simply.

"You're so easy to please, Cas," she replied, amused. "Now… Where's the closest _mall?_ "

Sam looked to Dean hopefully, only to see his brother smirking back smugly. "Have fun," he told him, and Sam could only glare back.

…

An hour later, Dean and Bobby were waiting outside the office where the Justice of the Peace was currently holding a ceremony.

Shifting in his seat, wanting to stand, to just move for the sake of being able to, Bobby said, "Y'know, when I gave you the ring, I thought it'd take you a bit to actually propose…"

"Yeah…" He snorted. "So did I."

Leaning back in his seat, he wondered, "So what made ya do it that morning? Thought you might try an' talk yourself out of it some."

"I dunno…" He glanced at him. "It just fit…" He half-smiled to himself. " _She_ fit."

His brow cocked. "She's making, and _burning,_ breakfast, and you figured it was a good time to ask her to marry you…?" He scoffed, smirking. "For a guy who's slowly eatin' his way to an early heart attack, you're apparently not in it for her cooking."

Dean rolled his eyes, knee bouncing. "How much longer is this gonna take?"

"The guy's marrying some other crazy couple, boy… Try and cut 'em a little slack." He frowned. "You wouldn't even _be_ here if it wasn't for a buddy in the system. Takes almost a month to get all the paperwork and stuff done."

"Yeah," He half-frowned. "Seems our luck's changin' some."

He frowned knowingly. "You still worryin' about what to do with Sam?"

He snorted. "Wouldn't you?"

"Maybe it's time you stop tryin' to do the right thing by everyone and let them figure it out for themselves…" He stared at him seriously. "You been takin' care of Sam his whole life, Dean. Could be it's time for you to start livin' your own."

Licking his lips, he crossed his arms over his chest, brows furrowed thickly. "Not that easy."

"Why?" he demanded, pursing his lips. "He's twenty-eight years old, Dean. When're you gonna cut the apron strings?"

He glared back at him. "It's not like that."

"So what is it, huh? You think if you say yes, Sam bites it and it's all your fault?" He lifted a brow questioningly. "It's not always on you, Dean. Hell, look around ya. Looks like destiny was playin' a bigger part than we ever thought…" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Sam's whole life has been leadin' up to this. He either says yes and he does right by the world, by _you_ and your family, or he says yes and he an' Lucifer take on Michael and we all bite it. And if, my some damn miracle, we win this _without_ Sammy goin' dark side, then what? So you saved him again, you walked the nice, easy, safe road… But what about Sam?"

"What _about_ him?" he growled.

He waved his hands around for emphasis. "What if all this, what if doing this and proving he really is the good kid we all know he is, deep down… it's what he _needs_."

Brows furrowed, he turned his head to look at him questioningly.

"We been questioning him all this time, assuming he'll screw it up somehow or he'll say yes and be the last piece in blowin' this world sky high, but… He's not a little kid, Dean…" He stared at him, saying sincerely, "Ya taught him well."

Pursing his lips, he looked away. "And if he jumps in and just…" He shook his head. "Never comes back?"

"Then he went in knowing that we trusted him. That we _believed_ in him and… and he did the right thing. He…" He sighed. "He proved to us and himself that he was never the monster they wanted him to think he was."

Dean stared at the floor, jaw ticking. "So that's your advice then?" He glanced at him. "Let him go?"

"Dean…" He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees before he popped his hat off and ran a hand over his head. "You're gettin' married tomorrow… You're… You're startin' a new life, a _better_ life…" He frowned slowly. "And Sam's offerin' you the chance to have a world left to do it in. If that ain't a good weddin' gift, I don't know _what_ is…"

Dean couldn't help it, he laughed. He guessed it'd outdo any regular toaster as a gift.

Bobby grinned back, snorting under his breath. "Can't believe you're actually gettin' _married_ …"

"Yeah…" He smiled to himself, shaking his head. "If dad could see me now…"

"He'd be _proud_ ," Bobby assured, nodding.

Thinning his lips, he lifted a shoulder. "Really? 'Cause I think he'd be warning me that Chloe had a pretty good chance of following in mom and Jess' footsteps."

"Your daddy wasn't ever the same after your mom died…" He sighed. "He got bitter and vengeful and one-minded, but… He _loved_ you boys, Dean. Even if he didn't always show it in any traditional way."

Staring down at the floor, Dean shook his head slowly. "I don't wanna be like him, Bobby…"

"Ya _won't_ ," he said determinedly.

"He and mom were _fated_ …" He frowned cynically. "Just like us."

"They were fated to have _you_ , to have _Sam_ … Whether they loved each other, I can't say. I hope so, Dean, I do. But I don't know…" He stared at him seriously. "What I do know is that you and Chloe _do_. That girl would do anything for you and you'd do the same for her. That _matters_. Not whether some," He waved his hand irritably, "Cupid decided you two should get together. That you found each other and that you stick together is what matters."

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

The door opened just to the left of them and out stepped a couple, holding hands and smiling at each other, cheeks flushed and the faint sign of tear tracks on their faces, followed by a man in a suit.

"You Jared Brown, justice of the peace?" Dean asked, standing from his seat.

Watching the couple go for a second, he turned back and nodded to Dean, holding a hand out for him to shake. "That's me."

"Great," he said, shaking it swiftly. "I'm Dean… And we got a friend that said you could do me a big favor."

Listening, he tipped his head.

…

Standing in the middle of Empire Mall, Chloe's eyes darted to and fro. With Cas and Sam in tow, they'd driven through Sioux Falls searching for the kind of place she might find something to wear that didn't say 'road-trip' for the wedding she hadn't expected to sneak up on them quite so soon. She wasn't disappointed. At least, not that they were getting married. She _was_ upset with herself for not telling Lois, however. It was stupid, really, but she just couldn't tell her cousin over the phone or through an email. It felt impersonal, like an out-of-the-blue memo that lacked emotion. Her cousin was her best friend and just _telling_ her she was getting married felt wrong. But there was nothing she could do now. She and Dean, someone her cousin hadn't even _met_ , were getting married. _Tomorrow._

Sam fidgeted next to her. "I really don't think I'm the best person for this job," he reminded. For the third time!

Rolling her eyes, she looked over at him. "Sam… There are three reasons you're helping me find a dress right now. One, I sort've think Dean's worried I'll _run_. Which is ridiculous, but he's got his reasons; all of which are, as previously stated, _ridiculous_. Two," She smiled at him, "This can be a soon-to-be sister-brother-in-law bonding experience… As unusual as it probably is. And three…" She lifted a brow. "Can you see Bobby in your position right now?"

He snorted. "Okay… All good reasons." His brows lifted imploringly, "But I've never dress-shopped in my life, so…"

"Well," She hooked her arm with his. "A whole new experience then."

"I was told coffee would be included in this," Castiel interrupted, frowning at his surroundings.

"Right." She grinned. "First stop is the food court then."

Castiel's eyes were darting all over in search of his favorite beverage when Chloe pointed out the Cinnabon store. "So, how about a coffee with a twist?"

He frowned, but his eyes thinned with interest.

Amused, Chloe ordered him a specialty drink and when it appeared, she held it out to him. "It's not hot," she warned. "This is a MochaLatta Chill… It's chocolate and coffee mixed together with crushed ice. And that's whip cream and chocolate syrup on top."

He stared at it a moment but finally reached out and took it. Startled slightly by how cold it was, he brought it back to himself slowly and then wrapped his mouth around the straw. He glanced at Chloe one last time and finally took a long drink. Eyes widened with pleasant surprise, Cas drank more, and more, until half of it was gone.

"Careful, you don't want to get—"

Suddenly, he dropped his cup and clutched his head. "It's a trick! The devil's found my weakness and exploited it!"

Chloe tried not to laugh while Sam didn't even bother hiding it. "No, Cas, it's— It's just _brain-freeze!_ I tried to tell you, you can't drink it so fast."

"It feels like ice is sharply stabbing my brain," he replied through clenched teeth.

She bit her lip. "That's… a colorful way of putting it."

When the ache began to dull, he glared at her and then down at the spilled and melting drink at his feet on the floor. "I think I would like hot coffee now."

Pursing her lips so not to smile, she nodded. "Right, sure… Uh, you know what? Subway's got regular coffee. Good coffee, even. Seattle's Best."

"We're in Sioux Falls," he argued, confused.

She simply shook her head back at Sam who snorted behind them.

Shortly after, with Cas now suitably loaded up with regular, hot coffee, the three of them took the escalator to the second floor and searched out a store directory to see where they should start.

Chloe read through store names, searching for something that spoke 'casual white wedding dress' to her. She wasn't going to a bridal boutique, not only did they not have the money for that, but this wasn't going to be some big hoopla wedding. This was small, intimate, family-only. Or, well, Sam, Cas and Bobby only. Again, she was reminded of the fact that not only would Lois not be there, but she didn't even know it was _happening_. Lips pursed, she looked away in dismay.

Sam stared at her. "You were serious when you said you weren't gonna run, right?"

With a light chuckle, she nodded. "I'd never do that to Dean…" Tucking her hands in her pockets, she looked up at him. "Or myself, for that matter."

He nodded slowly. "So what's the problem?"

She smiled sadly. "I just remembered that my cousin, also one of my best friends, doesn't even know I'm _engaged_ , let alone getting married tomorrow."

Sam's eyes widened understandingly. "We _can_ put it off…" he suggested, but even as he said it, she knew different.

While her life had always been pretty sudden, the weirdest of things usually popping up at the most inopportune moments, her wedding to Jimmy had been planned out and organized and involved everybody that mattered to them. She didn't _regret_ that she and Dean were marrying through a justice of the peace, but… Part of her worried he was doing this more out of a sense of fear at losing her than loving her. She knew he wanted to marry her, she knew he would do just about anything for her. But she couldn't stop the niggling voice in her head that was always in worry-mode.

Reaching for her, Sam squeezed her shoulder. "Chloe?"

"Huh?" She looked up at him, seeing the concern in his big brown eyes. She smiled reassuringly. "It's nothing. Don't worry…" Eyes moving around, she sighed. "Let's just… find a wedding dress, okay?"

He nodded, but as he surveyed the many store names once more, he looked at her with an expression that clearly said, 'I'm just here for support… Please don't ask me to do anything.'

Over the next three hours, interspersed with coffee stops for Cas, they found that most of the stores they stopped at were directed at a younger crowd. Teenagers that were into neon colors and flashy, chunky accessories. All she wanted was _simple_ ; a white dress, nothing spectacular. She just didn't want to marry Dean in a pair of old, ripped jeans, flip flops and a ratty t-shirt. Comfortable, yes, but not marrying material. Was it so much to ask?

"What about that place?" Sam asked, pointing at a store across the way.

With a coffee in either hand, Cas frowned at them. "My feet hurt."

"For an angel of the Lord, you whine a lot," she replied, looking past his shoulder to the store Sam had pointed out.

Deb Shops was much like most of the other stores they'd walked through; flower patterns and bright colors. But she went regardless, hoping she might find a gem amongst them. Cas had a point; they'd been shopping for awhile now and finding nothing of interest. She didn't want to give up but her own feet were starting to complain.

Cas was busy with his coffee and so he hardly noticed the looks being tossed his way, while Sam was way out of his element. Standing so tall amongst a whole lot of shorter women, he looked like a model posing as a lumberjack that walked off the pages of a magazine and right into a store full of blushing, ogling, giggling teenage girls. He flushed back, offering an uncomfortable smile and then turned toward her. "What about that?" he motioned randomly.

She blinked. The pattern was so bizarre she thought she could see some kind of 3D animal jumping out from it. "Um… no…"

He sighed, wide shoulders slumping. "Chloe… I don't wanna ruin the experience for you, but… You could show up in a paper bag and Dean would still think you looked beautiful."

Expression softening, she smiled up at him.

"May I help you?" a sales lady asked pleasantly, looking from her to Sam and back at Cas who was shaking one of his now empty coffee cups for the last lingering drops. Finally, she turned her attention back to Chloe, even if her eyes tended to linger on Sam.

"Yes," Chloe said, appreciatively. "White dress, simple, casual. No flowers, no flash, just…" She lifted a shoulder, reiterating, " _Simple_."

"Okay… Well, we have a few in what you're looking for," she assured. "With or without straps?"

"With, please…"

"Great. If you'll meet me by the dressing room, I'll bring a few over," she offered with a bright grin.

"Sure." With Sam and Cas in tow, she made her way over.

Fidgeting, Sam stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and looked around. "So…" He cleared his throat before looking down at her and furrowing his brows. "You're sure you want this?"

She peered up at him. "Are you asking for my benefit or your brother's?"

He shrugged. "Both."

"You think we're making the wrong choice?" she wondered.

"No. I…" He sighed, running a hand back through his hair. "I just want to be sure that this is something you guys want and not something you feel you _have_ to do…" He stared at her searchingly. "I mean, yeah, the world could be ending, but…"

She laughed slightly. "Sam… Your brother's my _soul mate._ Which sounds cheesy and really naïve, but… After all we've been through and all we're facing still…" Her shoulders lifted. "This might be one of the last _good_ times we get and I know it seems early and sudden and not all that thought out…" Her eyes fell, brows furrowed. "But I love him." She smiled sincerely. "And if, somehow, this blows up in our faces… Trust me, you've got first dibs on the I told you so's."

He half-smiled, reaching over he drew her into a side hug. "I don't _want_ to say I told you so…" He laughed shortly. "If anybody's meant to be my sister-in-law, I'm glad it's you."

With the overwhelming urge to hug him warming her chest, she gave in and did just that. Jumping up to wrap her arms around his neck and squeezing. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_ ," he whispered against her shoulder. "You don't know what you mean to him…"

The clerk arrived then, clearing her throat to draw their attention, and with a soft sniffle, Chloe let go and turned.

"Okay, so we have three dresses that I think fit the bill. This first one has some floral lace overlay, it's very simple." She showed them. "This second one has some flattering ruche detailing that hugs the curves and just a _bit_ of flash here at the shoulder clasps. And lastly, my favorite, is this mesh, satin and lace dress." She held it out for them to see, smiling. "A very clean surplice bodice with satin tank straps adds a nice casual look while the tiered lace skirt is a little flirty while still maintaining that simple look you wanted."

"Is white an appropriate color?" Cas asked, cocking his head.

Sam turned to look at him surprised. "Cas," he whisper-shouted.

The angel looked up at him, not understanding.

"What _exactly_ are you trying to say?" Chloe asked, brows lifted.

Sam laughed awkwardly. "Nothing. He's—He doesn't mean _anything_ …" Turning back toward him, he growled, "Remember that you're human now… Dean can and will _kill_ you."

Cas frowned. "The Salvage yard is mostly dirt… I was only worried her dress would get dirty." He looked between them. "I don't understand your anger."

Chloe smiled. "It's okay… Sam just thought you were questioning my purity or something… No worries."

"What does a white dress have to do with purity?" Castiel wondered.

"Never mind," Sam sighed, shaking his head.

The saleswoman cleared her throat, confused by them.

Turning back around to explain, Chloe paused, staring with wide eyes at the third dress she was holding up. " _That_ one," she said, nodding.

Handing it over, the clerk stepped back, keeping the other two over her arm just in case. "I wasn't sure about your size. You're petite but most of our customers aren't quite as…" She motioned absently to her chest.

Chloe chuckled. "Now I'm not only impure but too old to shop here."

"Oh, no, I didn't…" the saleswoman argued, shaking her head. "It's just that we have so many pre-teens who aren't quite as… um, developed as you are."

"Puberty does that," she muttered, walking into the changing room.

Inside the dressing room, Chloe changed out of her casual jeans and top before dragging on the dainty white dress that had spoken to her. As soon as the fabric slipped across her skin, she felt it; a connection. It fit perfectly, as if made for her, and her smile grew. She tied the back in a loose bow and then twirled before the mirror, beaming at herself. To her, it looked good, but she wanted to be sure before she paid for it. It wasn't exactly a poofy white wedding dress from a high-end designer, but it was going to be what she wore to marry Dean, so she wanted it to be _just right_. For the first time in a long time, she felt especially feminine.

Stepping out, she looked from the clerk to Sam to Cas. "So?"

Sam's eyes widened. "Wow, uh…" He sighed. "You weren't marrying my brother today, I might just propose myself," he joked warmly.

Chuckling, she spread her hand down the lace. "Not too much?"

"It's perfect," he reassured.

Feeling like he was right, she did another little twirl and grinned at Cas. "What d'you think?"

Gulping back his coffee, his eyes stared at her widely. "You are very physically appealing."

She laughed, face splitting in a smile. "Thank you, Cas."

"He's, uh, _foreign_ ," Sam explained to the clerk.

Chloe smoothed her hand down the dress, her cheeks almost aching from her perma-grin. She paused then, however. "How much?" she asked, staring at the clerk both curious and worried. The last thing she wanted to do was buy her wedding dress with a stolen credit card via the Winchesters usual payment method. Wouldn't that just be the icing on top?

"It's on sale," she replied brightly. "It _was_ seventy, but it's on for thirty."

Relaxing, she nodded. "Sold."

Sam sighed with relief, shoulders slumping.

Chloe chuckled in his direction; she knew he thought he was finally getting out of the store. Unfortunately for him, she had to dash his hopes. "Now all I need is shoes."

His shoulders slumped.

"I need more coffee," Castiel told them, sighing.

She rolled her eyes. "You need an _IV_ of coffee."

His brows furrowed. "Perhaps they have one on sale."

Laughing, she shook her head, happy to see even Sam was amused, regardless of how much he wanted out of the mall.

…

Dean finally found the right number through no easy amount of digging. Sam and Chloe were better with computers than he was, but he wasn't inept. Still, the woman in question wasn't exactly putting herself out there for all to find. He could admire privacy, but he had to wonder just what kind of enemies she had after her that she had to keep herself so out of reach. If anything, he could relate, but still…

Dialing the number, he sat back on the porch swing, eyes hooded to keep out the sun. Finger picking at the label of the beer on his knee, bottle sweating in the heat, he went over in his head exactly what he was going to say.

"Yeah?" came an abrupt voice on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, uh…" He cleared his throat. "Is this… I, uh… I'm not sure I have the right number so—"

"Spill it, buddy, I've got things to do."

Recognizing the impatience, he suddenly smiled. "Buddy now, huh? Last time I was _diphthong_."

A noticeable pause came from her end. "Is she okay?" she asked suddenly, worried, the bite of her tone before lost.

He suddenly liked her a little more. "Yeah, yeah, she's fine. She's, uh… _shopping_ , actually."

"Shopping?" she exclaimed. "Without _me?_ "

He snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure it's breakin' her heart too. Look, uh… I know this is last minute, but I was hoping—I-I mean I think Chloe would really like it if, uh…" He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. Hell, he was not good at this kind of thing.

"Spit it out already, Winchester," she sighed. "Chloe gave the impression you were a lot more charming than this."

He snorted. "Awesome," he muttered sarcastically, irritated with himself. "Look, how soon can you be on a plane to South Dakota?"

Quiet met his ears once more and then, "Come again?"

"Things have been crazy lately and I'm pretty sure Chloe hasn't had the time to talk to you, but uh, we're, uh…" He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. "We're gettin' married tomorrow and—"

" _What?_ And she didn't call and tell me?" she interrupted loudly. "Just how _busy_ could she have been that she didn't call her favorite person in the world to tell her something _this_ monumental was happening?"

"Well, y'know, world's only _ending_ …"

"That is _so_ not an excuse," Lois grumbled.

"So you know now," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "No harm, no foul." Sighing, he shook his head. "So? This is me askin' you to come out for the wedding. Feel free to complain as much as you want that she didn't make time for you in between the _apocalypse_ when you get here."

"Trust me, you're going to _seriously_ regret encouraging that come tomorrow."

He snorted, cocking a brow. "That mean you're coming?"

"Mmmm… yeah. If I can't catch a commercial flight out, I'll highjack my ex's jet," she said casually. "Just _don't_ start without me, all right?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure."

"Good." She went quiet a moment. "So… You're marrying my cousin… Guess it's a little late for the 'what are your intentions speech?' huh?"

He chuckled. "Little bit, yeah."

"Oh well, I still get to give you the 'hurt her and I will kill you very slowly and painfully' warning… That's always fun."

Shaking his head, he grinned. "Sure, _tons_."

"For me, yes. You...? Not so much."

Lifting his beer, he took a long drag.

He got the distinct feeling Lois was going to be a very unusual but amusing character in his life. And with Chloe becoming a permanent fixture, he didn't think he'd be getting rid of Lois any time soon. He had to figure the reward in the end was worth the suffering.

"So what kind of food's being served at this shin-dig?" Lois wondered.

Then again, maybe he'd get along with her better than he thought.


	35. Chapter Thirty-Four

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXXIV.**

The morning of Chloe and Dean's wedding, Bobby woke her up early. Sneaking out of Dean's embrace easily, she made her way downstairs with the older man and into the kitchen.

With the sun coming in through the windows, glaring into her sleep-weighed eyes, she ran a hand through her mussed hair and stretched her arms high above her head.

Bobby had a pan sizzling on the stove and walked from an old book he had open on the countertop to the check the pan before he looked back at her. "You ever make pancakes from scratch, Sully?" he asked.

She smiled. "Once, when I was a kid. My dad tried to teach me since he didn't think he'd be around often for breakfast."

He half-smiled. "How'd that turn out?"

"Burnt," she replied with a shrug. Crossing to stand next to him, she tucked her hands in her pockets. "Planning to correct my one lacking cooking skill then?"

He gave a short nod and then pointed to the leather bound book on the counter. "That there's Karen's… She put all her favorite recipes in there and marked down which ones were good and which ones needed work." He looked back at the pan. "There's a good one in there for blueberry pancakes." He cleared his throat and pretended to be busy with something while she smiled warmly up at him.

"Is this your own way of saying 'Welcome to the family'?" she asked, lifting a brow.

He scoffed, hands on his hips. "This is my own way of teachin' you how to cook," he said gruffly, but he glanced over and half-smiled anyway. "So? Get your apron, girl. We ain't got all morning."

Smiling to herself, she walked over and grabbed up a couple of aprons, putting her own on before lifting the neck strap of the Kiss the Cook one over Bobby's head. And with an affectionate grin, she lifted up onto her tiptoes and kissed his rough, bearded cheek.

With a faint flush to his face, he pursed his lips and reached for the book. "First, uh, we gotta sift the flower…"

In a few hours, she would be Chloe Winchester, but it seemed she already got all the benefits now. A brother in Sam, a father in Bobby, a friend in Cas… If she weren't marrying Dean, she would've thought it couldn't get better. But she was and it would. She grinned warmly, eyes prickling with tears. Funny, how being so happy actually made her want to cry with relief. She'd found her place in the world, her family, her _soul mate_.

"Three an' a half teaspoons of bakin' powder now, Sully," Bobby said.

Nodding, she reached for the measuring spoons.

…

Cas came down first, in search of coffee and looking rumpled in a too-large pair of pajamas he borrowed off of Sam. He'd had to roll up both the arms and legs and with Sam's muscular build, the sheer width of the shirt made Cas look like a much smaller man.

She chuckled into her coffee mug when he sat down across from her, looking tired. "Dreaming is a very unusual sensation."

Chloe lifted a brow wonderingly.

"I dreamt of a sea of coffee…" He frowned. "But it kept raining ice and I suffered the frozen brain condition you warned me about." He scowled darkly.

"A nightmare then," she said, amused.

Nodding slowly, he leaned down an inhaled his coffee appreciatively; his face becoming a mask of pleasure.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "If you're hungry, there's pancakes leftover." When he stared at her dubiously, she shook her head. "There's no ice involved in pancakes, Cas."

Mollified, he agreed and she served him out a few on a plate.

It was a few minutes later when Sam walked into the kitchen, stretching his arms high above his head and letting out a long yawn. "Morning," he said, nodding to each of them.

"Pancakes are in the oven keeping warm," Chloe told him.

He brightened, taking a plate down from the cupboard.

It was weird, she thought, that things could be so… _normal_ with all that was happening. They had an apocalypse right around the corner and they were getting married. They had a _wedding_ this afternoon and they were all casually eating breakfast. It was enough to make her think she'd dreamt up the whole crazy thing. Except that if she had, she wouldn't be at Bobby Singer's house, surrounded by a hunter and an angel of the lord, waiting for her soul mate to wake up. She grinned down into her coffee.

"What's up with her?" Sam asked, glancing at Bobby.

"Dunno… She's been smilin' like that all mornin'."

He shrugged. "Who'd a thought anybody'd _want_ to be a Winchester."

He snorted. "She _is_ a little crazy."

"The best usually are."

Dean walked into the kitchen then, eyes half-closed with sleep. Bee-lining it for the coffee, he poured himself a large mug and then took a seat next to Chloe. Sam and Bobby watched, amused when he leaned over and whispered something in Chloe's ear, kissing her neck before he returned to his coffee, smirking to himself. When she flushed, eyes slightly wide, they looked away, knowing he'd no doubt said something dirty and neither of them wanted to ponder it much.

Leaning back in his seat, Dean asked, "You been up long?"

Chin balanced on her hand, she looked over at him. "A few hours."

His brows lifted. "Hours? It's hardly nine."

She smiled. "Bobby and I made breakfast…" Her expression softened. "He gave me Karen's recipe book." She glanced at the older man who was washing up his coffee mug in the sink. "I think it's his way of giving his blessing."

"Yeah?" His brows furrowed. "What'd I get?"

Chuckling, she rolled her eyes.

"Soon as you get your coffee in you, I need you three boys to gimme a hand in the back," Bobby told them, glancing over his shoulder.

They stared back at him questioningly.

"It wasn't a _suggestion_ ," he muttered gruffly.

Chloe grinned to herself.

Honestly, she loved that man. He was oddly adorable. She thought if she ever told him that he might blush as badly as the day Crowley outed him and their soul-swapping, deal-making kiss.

It was almost worth it.

…

"Bobby, I really don't think they'll have anything for such a sudden wedding," Sam sighed.

"They're a flower shop, Sam, they'll have _something_ ," he argued, rolling his eyes. "You got the address?"

"Two-thirty-six South Main Avenue," he repeated for the fourth time, shaking his head.

"Don't you shake your head at me, boy. This is important!"

"Why's Dean get to build stuff and I have to pick up _flowers?_ " he wondered, pouting.

"'Cause of that right there," he replied, frowning. "Now… you got the list?"

"Yes, I need to get a bouquet of lilies and roses and whatever they think will wrap nicely around the archway…" He sighed. "What about food?"

"It's covered," he muttered absently.

Sam pursed his lips, unconvinced. "There's only four of us, did we really need to order out?"

"Five."

"I didn't think the Justice of the Peace counted… He's not staying, is he?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, Sam, we've got another guest comin' in today."

"What? Who?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"Ain't you supposed to be pickin' up flowers?" he replied, frowning.

"All right, all right, I'm going…" He glared back at him, walking toward the van.

"You're sure you got the right a—"

"Address! Yes!" he sighed, rolling his eyes. "How many Young and Richard's Flowers and Gifts _are_ there in Sioux Falls?"

"Just the one," he replied. "But we only got one chance for this to work right."

Saluting back at him sarcastically, Sam hopped in the Impala and revved the engine.

For a small, intimate wedding, it'd just taken on a whole new life with Bobby in charge.

…

A couple hours later had Castiel standing in the middle of the airport, his brows furrowed as he looked around, confused. In his arms was a sign, one he'd been told would do all the work for him. Bobby was parking the car and had sent him in to wait for their guest since he couldn't let the angel drive and they were already late.

"Hey!" a loud voice called, drawing his attention. "You're holding that sign upside down," the woman told him, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. "Lois Lane," she introduced. "Which is what your sign would say if you had it upright." She smirked. "So? You Dean or...?"

"No," he replied. "I'm Castiel, an angel of the Lord."

She blinked. "Huh… Apparently they don't teach you tact up there."

He frowned. "Up where?"

"Heaven," she replied, rolling her eyes.

Slowly, he looked up, confused.

She sighed. "Whatever, angel-boy." Rubbing her hands together, she looked around, "Where's my cousin?"

"Bobby's," he said simply.

Lois stared at him, waiting. "And…? Are we going there or is there some secret handshake I don't know about?"

He stared at her, brows furrowed.

"You're a bit of a buzzkill, y'know that?"

"Physically, you're very attractive. However, when you open your mouth, you become rather obnoxious."

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and then laughed thickly. Throwing an arm around his shoulders, she shook her head. "I think I like you."

He didn't look very happy about that.

…

Dean stared at the arbor he'd made with his own two hands thanks to the help of a few of Bobby's tools. It'd been awhile since he'd worked with anything other than a car engine, but he still had a knack for building things. It was simple, something Chloe would call elegant even. He'd been surprised when Bobby suggested it, not thinking to really add anything to their surroundings for their small ceremony. But when the idea got into his head, it fit. With the others working on various other projects, he got to work on his. And by the time it was painted he was feeling good about it. With an extra fan on the quick-drying paint, he sat back and just stared. There was something surreal about this moment, about knowing that in a few hours, he'd be married. He'd have a wife and he'd be Chloe's husband.

His mouth lifted on one side with a smile.

He never really saw himself as the marrying type or the kind of guy who settled down with any particular woman for very long. Nobody had stood out before; they'd never known about his life, taken it at face value and been willing to work with it rather than around it. And now _not_ having Chloe in his life just didn't make sense. Then again, getting married just before they were either going to save or doom the world didn't exactly scream logical either. He chuckled under his breath. But in their world, in their lives, it made sense in some weird way. And he wasn't going to argue with that.

"Hey," Sam's voice called out, drawing his attention.

He turned in his seat, looking over to his brother standing in the doorway.

Holding up a couple of beers, he cocked his head wonderingly.

"Tryin' to get me drunk so I don't run for it?" Dean asked, amused.

"Nah." Crossing the floor, he took a seat next to him. "You're not goin' anywhere."

He lifted a brow. "That right?" he asked, opening his beer with an easy twist of his wrist.

Sam smirked at him before reaching over and clanking their bottles together. "You were never the guy who ran away, remember?" He half-smiled. "And even if you were, I don't think you could _force_ yourself to now. You're…" He took a deep breath and then sighed in mock-sadness. "Completely and totally hooked."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"But, y'know, it's…" Sam ran a hand back through his hair. "It's good… _Really_ good."

He glanced at him wonderingly.

He grinned. " _She's_ good. For you."

"Yeah, she's not bad," he joked lightly.

Sam smiled, shaking his head. "We both know you'd be lost without her…" He stared at him seriously. "In the worst kind of way."

"This just turned into one of those _feelings_ talks, didn't it?" he muttered, frowning.

He chuckled. "No…" Reaching over, he clapped his shoulder. "No, 'cause you're getting married today." His brows furrowed. "And I never thought I'd say that, but… Here we are."

"Here we are," he murmured, nodding.

Sam sat back, taking a long drag of his beer. "You scared?"

"Not really…" He shrugged.

He nodded. "Nice, uh…" He motioned to the arbor, waving his hand.

Snorting, he glanced at him. "You always sucked at woodshop."

He glared at him. "I was just better at computers."

"Geek."

"Jerk," he replied, grinning.

"Bitch," Dean replied with a smile.

Together, they drank their beers and watched the paint dry.

There wasn't anything more to say, really. It suited them just fine.

…

When the Justice of the Peace, Jared, arrived Dean went inside to get ready. He had a monkey suit in his duffel bag that he hoped wasn't wrinkled to hell. Climbing the stairs, he opened the door without thinking of whether or not she'd be there or not, only to find her standing in front of the dresser, wearing a killer white dress, readjusting the straps in the mirror. His breath caught a moment, chest aching in a good kind of way for once.

Silently, he stepped up behind her, catching her eyes through the mirror.

Startled but smiling, she turned her head up to see him. "Bad luck to see the bride before the wedding," she murmured.

"Doesn't feel too bad," he mumbled in reply, his hands clasping her soft, bare arms. "You look… _beautiful_."

She flushed warmly, turning in his arms. "What? This old thing?" she replied cheekily.

He laughed thickly. Dragging his fingers through her curled hair, he cupped the back of her neck. "There anything about kissing the bride before the wedding I should know about?"

"Mm…" She pursed her lips teasingly, "Just that it's very, very encouraged."

Lowering his mouth to hers, he drew her close, his hand sliding up her back slowly.

Arms encircling his waist, she moaned lowly, parting her lips and meeting his reaching tongue with her own. He ignored the spikes of pressure in his chest, the ones that said air was a must. Instead, he slanted his mouth across hers in a bruising, possessive kiss. Finger dragging through her hair and down her neck, he fought the urge to walk her back toward the bed and tear that dress off her right then and there. He slowed down, reluctantly. If he kept this up, he'd forget all about the wedding and his brother would no doubt interrupt them right in the middle of a very hot and sticky situation.

When he drew back, her mouth pink and thoroughly kissed, he pressed his forehead to hers and just breathed. She kissed his chin sweetly, her hands kneading his shoulder blades tenderly. "Second thoughts?" she wondered quietly.

"Nope," he replied honestly. And with one last kiss, he stepped back. "Should get dressed before I do somethin' that's gonna make white all wrong for this wedding."

She grinned. "Pretty sure you already have."

Chuckling under his breath, he walked to his bags and dragged out a folded suit. Pants on and buttoned, he slipped his shirt on, left it open and pulled on the jacket. "I hate ties," he muttered, frowning.

Crossing the room, she paused in front of him, buttoning his shirt slowly, the backs of her knuckles dragging up his chest. He swallowed tightly, a heated flush spreading across his skin. There was a pressure in his chest, in his stomach and hard beneath his pants. His eyes fell to half-mass and he balled his hands into fists to keep from reaching out for her. While she was dressing him, he was having a hard time not _un_ dressing her.

Popping the collar on his shirt, she tucked his jacket beneath and then folded it over. "So don't wear one," she suggested, tossing the tie away. Leaving the top few buttons agape on his pressed white shirt, she smoothed it down his hard body and tucked it into the waist of his black pants.

Eyes darkening, he stared down at her, the promise of more than a few lingering kisses stark there in his gaze.

Her lips quirked with a suggestive grin while her hands slowly and purposefully smoothed his shirt down.

"You're gonna get us in trouble," he muttered, though he smirked happily.

With his pants buttoned, she reached up. Holding either side of his jacket, she tugged, drawing him closer. "Last chance to stay a single man, Winchester."

Shaking his head, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turned them. "No backin' out now." Leaning low, he kissed her temple. "Any last requests?"

Arm lifting to hold his waist, she shook her head. "I'm pretty set."

"Good."

Leaving the room, they walked downstairs, dressed in their finest and ready to see their wedding through.

Standing outside on the porch were Sam and Bobby, each dressed in sharp suits they probably wore for their 'FBI' covers.

Half-smiling, Bobby held out a small case to her. "Somethin' old," he said.

Glancing at Dean, she reached out and took it, opening it with a snap to find a pair of antique filigree earrings inside. "Bobby," she breathed, "These are… _beautiful_."

He gave a short nod, but didn't argue when she leaned across to kiss his whiskered cheek in thanks, even flushing a little at the attention.

Handing the box over for Dean to hold, she tucked her hair behind her ears and took out each earring, sliding it through before she ran her thumb down the intricate design. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Cas has the something borrowed," Sam told her, smiling.

Her brows furrowed, looking around for the angel in question.

Bobby whistled sharply as if to call the angel like a faithful dog. "Where's that idjit…?"

"I'm here," he replied from behind them, fiddling with his tie. "And so is the bane of my existence."

As low chuckles answered, Chloe stared at him. "What?"

"Something borrowed," he introduced, looking back as a certain brunette came rushing through the doorway.

"Hey, I might just _stay_ , Angel-boy, so don't get your hopes up yet!" Lois exclaimed, before spotting Chloe and squealing excitedly.

"L-Lois!" Chloe stuttered, eyes wide. She looked back at them. "You…?"

"Dean's idea," Sam said, grinning.

Looking back at him, a watery smile made her mouth tremble.

"I got my best friend," he said simply. "You should have yours too."

Eyes wet with tears, she shook her head. "Dean, that's—"

"Yeah, yeah, mushy stuff later," Lois interrupted. "Hello! I haven't received my hug yet!"

Shoving in front of Cas, she threw her arms around Chloe and squeezed. "Remind me later to be seriously upset with you for not telling me you were _engaged_ to Too-Sacrificial-For-His-Own-Good Winchester!"

Chuckling, Chloe hugged her tight. "I will…" She squeezed hard, sniffling. "I'm so happy you're here."

"Yeah, well, he was smart enough to call and beg me to come."

"I wouldn't call it _begging_ ," Dean muttered, frowning.

Lois rolled her eyes over at him but drew back from Chloe and held her hands. "Look at you! Gettin' hitched." Suddenly, she thrust a bouquet of flowers into her hands. "Here. I almost forgot. Lilies, too; your favorite! So you're all set!"

She smiled warmly. "Yeah and I even have three of four rituals completed, ignoring the sixpence anyway."

Sam stepped over, smiling boyishly, and held up a wide box. "So these can be something new."

She cocked her head, brows furrowed. Taking the box, she opened it to find a pair of braided platinum rings. Eyes wide, she murmured, "Sam, you didn't have to…"

"Getting wedding bands this quickly is not an easy feat, so let's just say we're lucky they had your sizes there…" He cleared his throat, glancing away awkwardly. "And that the saleslady liked me."

With a laugh, Chloe grinned.

"Where's the something blue?" Dean wondered, looking her up and down.

Smirking back at him, she lifted a brow. "You'll find out later."

"Not to put a rush on things, but I have a seven o'clock," Jared called out, smiling apologetically.

Chloe turned in the direction of the voice, only to see a tall man, dressed in black, at a beautiful arbor wound with bright flowers. Shaking her head, she looked back at them. "You guys went all out…"

"It was mostly Bobby," Dean said, reaching over to squeeze the older man's shoulder.

"Bobby…" Chloe hugged him around the waist. "This was so sweet of you."

"Yeah, well, uh…" He cleared his throat. "Just flowers…" he muttered.

Arm linked with Dean's, they led the procession as they all walked over to stand beneath the white arbor, in front of the Justice of the Peace. She half-smiled at him in greeting. "Thanks for coming out here on such short notice."

"My pleasure," he assured. "Are we ready?"

They nodded, turning toward each other, with Sam and Bobby on one side and Cas and Lois on the other.

A slight wind made the dirt ground around them kick up and whistled between scrap piles, but the smile on Chloe's face made it look like she stood in nothing less than a palace.

Hands clasped in front of him, Jared began, "Friends, family, we gather today to celebrate the marriage of Dean Winchester and Chloe Sullivan. Marriage enables two separate souls to share their desire, their destinies, their dreams, lives and future together. We rejoice and give thanks to all that brought them together here today, all that will keep them together in future years, and we bring our own encouragement and support as they take their vows."

Looking between them, he said, "Dean, the woman before you states of her own free will that she will be here, from today until forever. That she will love you in times of great strife and vast happiness. She will look to you for support, for comfort, for protection and for love. Do you have anything to add to these vows, Chloe?"

Taking a deep breath, she let it out in a shaky exhale. "I promise to be there for you and with you, on the worst and best days of your life. I promise that I will never walk away, never give up, and never want for anything, so long as I have you."

Swallowing tightly, Dean's mouth curved.

Jared turned to her. "And Chloe, the man that stands before you today vows of his own free will that he will stay by your side from now until forever. That he will love you in times of both great suffering and happiness. He will look to you for compassion, for support and understanding, for protection and for love. Dean, do you have anything to add to these vows?"

Clearing his throat, he nodded shortly and licked his lips. "I can't promise we'll live much past this moment… but I can promise I'll love you through every second we've got."

Chloe blinked rapidly as her eyes stung, feeling his promise deep inside her chest.

"It is your intention that you marry this woman. So I ask, do you, Dean Winchester, take Chloe to be your lawfully wedded wife from this day on, for better or for worse, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

He squeezed her hands in his. "I do."

Sam held aloft a small, braided silver ring that Dean then took and slid upon Chloe's finger, dragging his thumb across it deftly.

"And Chloe Sullivan, do you take Dean to be your lawfully wedded husband from this day on, for better or for worse, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

"I _do_ ," she whispered thickly.

Taking a similar but larger ring from Sam, she slid it on Dean's hand and grinned widely.

"The wedding ring symbolizes unity, a circle unbroken. You wear it here today and all the days of your future to remind yourselves and others that you have taken these vows to confirm a joining of your lives. It will take work, it will take trust and understanding, and it will stay as true as your bond to each other." He nodded his head in recognition. "From this day on and every day forward, your every moment shall be shared and spent as one. What vows you make are spoken in only minutes but the promises made will last until your dying breath. As you have pledged yourselves to each other, I, with the power vested in me by the state of South Dakota, now pronounce you husband and wife." He nodded between them. "You may kiss your bride."

Grinning, Dean tugged on her hands, bringing her close and then leaned down, their noses brushing. "You're mine now," he whispered before his mouth slanted across hers. Arms wrapped around him, she dragged her fingers through his hair and down his neck. Tongues stroking, air ignored, they were lost in the moment. Arm banded around her waist, he lifted her right up off the ground.

"This is gonna take awhile," Lois muttered.

Sam snorted.

The clapping of their friends and families had come to a slow stop.

And slowly, Dean and Chloe parted with her staring down at him happily. "Hey husband," she murmured.

He grinned. "Hey wife."

"All right, where's the grub! It was a long flight and I wasn't allowed to be seen so I haven't eaten in ages!" Lois exclaimed.

Cas frowned at her. "You drank all my coffee and stole my sandwich."

She shrugged flippantly. "Finder's keepers, _baby_."

He glared at her.

Laughing, Chloe shook her head. "I've got a pot-roast recipe I haven't tried yet."

"Not to worry," Sam said, shaking his head. "Bobby ordered out."

"You know," She turned to look at the older man, "if your job as a hunter ever falls through, you could have a great career in wedding planning," she said, grinning at him.

"Har, har," he scoffed. "Come on, you lot, we got food, drink and music inside… Let's celebrate before these two run off to the honeymoon suite."

As they all started walking inside, Sam stepped up next to them. "Speaking of… I booked you a room at Homewood Suites," he told them, grinning. "Under Robert and Maureen Plant."

Dean grinned at him, clapping his shoulder. "Not bad, Sammy."

"Is this a wedding gift or you trying to save your ears the suffering?" Chloe asked, smirking up at him.

"Both," he admitted freely.

Laughing, she couldn't blame him.

So long as the apocalypse didn't interrupt, she was one hundred percent sure that she and Dean were finally going to get further than hot and heavy foreplay. With his arm tight around her waist and the heat of his body seeping into hers, she could hardly wait. Stepping into the dining room to see it covered in platters of foods, she looked around at their few but very important people in their lives and then looked up at him.

Catching her eyes, he grinned. And with a teasing wink, he leaned down to kiss her temple.

She couldn't ask for a better wedding, friends, or husband. She really lucked out.

…

"Okay, okay," Sam clinked his beer bottle with a fork. "I got a speech so, y'know, shut up…"

Everybody laughed lightheartedly, turning in their seats to face him.

Standing at the front of the table, he raised his beer and grinned. "I'm honestly, uh, a little surprised we're standing here." He lifted a hand. "In a good way…" His smile lightened. "In the last month of knowing Chloe, I think both my brother and I have grown more and learned things about ourselves that we didn't even see coming…" He chuckled. "I never really imagined I'd one day be making this speech, for instance, but here we are…" He tipped his beer. "I want to thank Chloe for not only coming into our lives but for bringing so much to my brother's." He turned to look at her, nodding his head sincerely. "For believing in us when we didn't believe in ourselves, for refusing to give up or give in, and for giving us hope. If there is anyone who deserves my brother, it's you." He grinned. "And I mean that in the _best_ way possible."

She smiled, her eyes filled with appreciative tears. "Thank you," she mouthed emotionally.

"And Dean…" He took a deep breath and let it out heavily.

"Keep the chick-flick moments to a minimum," Dean replied with a half-grin.

Sam laughed. "Right…" He cleared his throat. "I look at you now and I think of who you were, who I _thought_ you were… In five years, you've become more than just a hunter, you've become a hero. And in the words of my new cousin-in-law, Lois, an all too sacrificial one." He half-smiled. "I've seen you give up your life for people you don't know and I've seen you do everything in your power to save those you do… You've died, you've been to hell, you've come back and you've given up hope." He paused thoughtfully. "I've seen you at the worst times of your life and I've seen the man I knew fall to pieces… But today I see those pieces are put back together. You're not the same man but you're the hero I always knew you were… And with Chloe by your side, I know that you'll only get better and be greater." His jaw ticked as he grinned. "So to the happy couple and their future where _anything_ is possible."

"Here, here!" Bobby cheered, lifting his beer in reply.

"Ooh, oh, I wanna say something!" Lois hopped from her seat, brushing food crumbs off her chest. "Sorry, those crabcakes are awesome."

Snorting, Dean nodded agreeably.

"Okay…" She licked her lips. "So I don't really know most of you," she began, "but I know my cousin. And Chloe only surrounds herself with the best and most trustworthy of friends." She glanced at Cas. "And I suppose coffee-addicted angels fit in there somewhere." Turning back to Dean, she said, "So the only real proof I've got is that you're _literally_ her soul mate… and had the good sense to call me," she added, grinning, "I don't know you well enough to judge, but I know you must be pretty damn worth it to earn her trust and love." She lifted her beer. "So treat her well and I won't have to castrate you."

He chuckled lightly.

"And Chloe…" Lois turned to smile at her. "I know we're not supposed to bring up exes, but can I just say… _Hubba hubba!_ Jimmy was a gargoyle compared to this one!" She pointed at Dean with her thumb, and then winked at her cousin.

Chloe laughed, shaking her head. "Thank you, Lois. That was a real pearl of wisdom."

"Hey, I'm not _done_ …" She rolled her eyes. "So I don't want to get mushy like the giant did, but…" Her smile softened toward her cousin, "I've seen you through your most heartbreaking moments and I've seen you when your whole world was paradise… We're shared tears and Ben and Jerry's, wisdom and concern, and you helped me to find a dream I never knew I had. And I look at you now, my little cuz, all grown up… Fighting the apocalypse of all things, side-by-side with your _soul mate_ …" She chuckled. "You always had to do things the hard way." Shaking her head, she lifted her beer once more. "To you, Chloe, and living this moment and this love for as long as the world is still kickin'."

Chloe lifted her beer in reply and grinned.

"All right," Sam said, clapping hands, "If that's all for speeches, the living room's cleared for dancing. That is… if we're not all too stuffed to try the wedding favorite… the chicken dance."

Bobby cheered, whistling excitably.

"But first, the bride and groom…" He waved toward Dean and Chloe and then reached over for the radio. "Lemme see if I can't find something good…" He turned the dial a few times, searching rather comically.

Finally, when a softer song blared out, he nodded. "All right…" He waved them out to the floor. "Show us what you've got."

Shaking his head, Dean brought her out into the living room and wrapped an arm around her waist while lifting her free hand into the air. His jacket had long between tossed and his shirt untucked and despite dragging Sam and Cas around in search of the perfect pair of shoes, she'd already shucked them in favor of bare feet. Swaying to the beat of the song, she stared up at her new husband, a grin making her cheeks ache with happiness.

 _Let me be the name you whisper,_  
when you're dreamin' in the night  
Be the hand you reach for every time  
you need to hold on tight  
The one who's there beside you  
when the worst of troubles come  
Let me... Let me be the one

His arm tightened at her waist, drawing her even closer until she could feel each breath he took against her own chest. With his hand stroking up and down her bare back, she rested her chin atop his chest, staring up at him affectionately. The room seemed to fade into the background, leaving only them; only Dean in front of her.

Weeks ago, she walked into a bar with only one thing on her mind: _Finally_. Finally, her search was over. For what, she hadn't known. And then he was looking at her, he was crossing the room, only to come to a silent, awed stop in front of her. Names exchanged, it was as if that was all they needed before she received the first kiss to truly make the world fall apart all around her. There was nothing but a stranger's lips, his hands holding her tight, as if scared she might disappear into thin air, leaving him there alone, without her.

The adventure that followed wasn't one she'd been looking forward to; it wasn't as if her whole life she'd been waiting for the apocalypse to call her name. But knowing that he was out there, fighting it, possibly even _losing_ against the darkness it promised, she really had no choice. Sure, he told her she could go, and maybe she could have. Logically, she could have stood up and walked away at any time. But the feelings she'd experienced, the loyalty that overwhelmed her senses had her there every step of the way. Even when he sent her home, sent her back to her League and her city landscape and everything she thought spelled her name clearly… she couldn't get away. She didn't _want_ to. What she wanted, _needed_ , was to be with him. Whatever that meant, whatever dangers that promised.

 

 

And now, here she was, with him… _married._

 _Let me be the place you hide away_  
when you need somewhere to go  
The keeper of your secrets  
that no one else should know  
The windin' road you head for  
every time you're on a ride  
 _Let me… Let me be the one_

She wasn't naïve; she knew that when the fuss was over, the dress put away and their bags packed, it was back to life as usual. Marrying Dean didn't mean she saved the world; it didn't even mean she saved _him_. But it did mean she gave him what he always deserved; someone to stand at his back, to stand up for him, to love him, to keep his secrets and understand them without questioning his sanity. And maybe they wouldn't make it through to the end, maybe they would have tonight and tomorrow they would die, suffering at the hands of Lucifer himself, but they'd hoped. They hoped for each other, for a future, for a world that wasn't just a war field for two scrapping archangels to have it out.

Dean's warm hand spread across her back, his thumb stroking high against the nape of her neck. He held her hand to his chest, their fingers twined. If she closed her eyes, focused, she could hear his heart. A smile curved her mouth; like always, it fell in tune with her own. She wondered if in the end, when she bit it, if his might stop, too. It was morbid, really. A thought best not fit in the sweet aftermath of their wedding, but… There was something in her chest, something deep in her heart, that said she might just die without him and she knew he felt the same. Funny thing was, she wasn't sure if it was literal or not.

What she did know was that nobody in her life before had ever meant quite as much as he did; they didn't make her smile the same or laugh as deeply, they didn't make her skin quiver with the simplest of touches. They couldn't make the heat between her thighs wet with just a look, just a shadow of a smirk. And it might not last forever but what she'd had with him, as short as it'd been already was enough to make up for all her years without him.

 _Let me be a true companion_  
as we travel in through time  
The one who will protect you  
not the one who falls behind

Dean didn't notice when Lois dragged Cas out to dance, forcing the awkward angel to wrap an arm around her waist and sway off-beat. Instead, his entire focus was on the woman smiling up at him. At the green eyes that glinted with the same sweet mischief as they always had. From the moment he met her, in that dim bar that wasn't worth her shadow.

Hell, he couldn't believe he was married. Couldn't believe she'd actually said _yes_. Half the time, he questioned whether she realized just what she was getting into. But then she'd look at him and that determination that butted heads with his own stubborn nature came out and he realized she knew _exactly_ what she was walking into. And she refused to be afraid; refused to let it scare her off or push her away or take her down.

Crazy ass woman actually knew she'd just married a hunter. And not just _any_ hunter but one who'd been to hell, let Lucifer out of his cage and was chasing the bastard down to kick him back in. The hunter that had enemies in every damn form; fellow hunters, archangels, regular angels, demons, and Gods. Not to mention the many other supernatural creatures that probably wanted his head on a pike. And she stood here, grinning up at him, as if he'd given her something good, something to be proud of; a name worth gloating over.

His inner cynic wanted to scoff and yet some part of him was proud… proud that he had her, that she wanted him. That he was _good enough_.

 _I wanna be your hero_  
I wanna lift from the flood  
I wanna pull you from the fire  
I wanna help you rise above  
I wanna be the lightnin' in your eyes  
I wanna stand and fight for you  
I wanna be the place wherever hearts are true

He wanted to be who she thought he was. Half the damn time he saw the same broken man that climbed out of hell and just couldn't get past it. And the other half, he turned, found her there and thought maybe heaven up and found him. She was no angel, no figment of his imagination, and he doubted they'd always get along. She had a way of arguing with him over everything; always wanting her way and refusing to take the safe way out. So he didn't want her to get gutted before he had a chance to live a good life with her, was that so much to ask? Apparently, when his wife was Chloe Sullivan, _yes_. Instead of turning him off, it added fuel to a fire he'd thought long burned out.

If there was anything Dean Winchester was good at, it was saving people, hunting things. So he'd be the guy that kept her safe even she was running headlong into danger and he'd know she'd be there to do the same for him. He gained a partner, a lover; what he never thought he deserved. What he still thought was too good for him. Her smile said different; it told him he was worth more than he ever gave himself credit for. And deep down, he wasn't so sure, but when she grinned at him, he felt whole again.

With her… he _was_ whole again.

 

 

_Did you know the way I felt?_  
Or did you just now realize?  
Did you know what you always wanted  
when you looked into my eyes?  
I promise that I'll love you  
whatever moments come

Sam grinned at them from afar, sitting atop the kitchen table, a half-empty beer in his hand. While Bobby stole Lois from Cas' bumbling arms and danced her around the floor, circling the oblivious newlyweds, Cas walked back to the table to sip his coffee. And Sam stared… He watched the brother who gave up on himself _find_ himself again; he watched a woman's smile lighten his brother's heart; he saw what love was.

Somewhere, he thought Jess might just be sighing. He thought she might approve of these two and the weird circumstances in which they met. He remembered his girlfriend once telling him that a soul mate was someone who matched another on every level, from personality to sexual appetite. He'd been hesitant of Chloe in the beginning, unsure of her intentions, but as he sat there now, seeing the way she stared up at Dean, as if he'd already saved the world, Sam knew the truth.

They fell in love in that bar, in between giving their names and a kiss that blew their minds. He should have seen it when Dean had to chase her down, when she opened the door and snarked them off. He was reluctant, suspicious, but it was so obvious now. Whether some naked cherub made it so or not, Chloe Sullivan and Dean Winchester were the kind of soul mates Jess spoke of. They were perfect for each other and they'd stay that way. Even if, or when, the world fell apart, they would have each other. And if he had to go down with it, he could at least take comfort in one thing…

There was a special place in heaven reserved for soul mates and Chloe would always keep her promise. His brother would be okay; he would be safe and loved and he'd have what he always deserved. _Her_.

 

 

_Let me...Let me be the one_  
Let me be the one  
Let me be the one  
Forevermore  
Forevermore  
Forevermore  
Forevermore  
Let me be the one

As the song played out and they continued to dance, holding each other close, their eyes refusing to part, he lifted his beer in cheers.

 _To them_ … he thought silently. _To brothers and sister-in-law's and love everlasting_.

If Dean could read his thoughts, he'd call him a girl. Grinning, he tipped his beer back and just sighed. For now, at least, life was good.

Tomorrow, he imagined, it'd be back to Apocalypse Now. But tomorrow could wait.

After all, the newlyweds had some _celebrating_ left to do.


	36. Chapter Thirty-Five

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXXV**.

When they left Singer Salvage tin cans rattled behind them, courtesy of Sam. "If they scratch my baby…" Dean muttered, but didn't remove them. Turned in her seat, she waved goodbye to Lois, Sam, Cas and Bobby, hoping her cousin didn't cause too much trouble while she was away. They'd be back tomorrow; there wasn't enough time to spend on a honeymoon and it'd be back to life as usual come the morning. The stubborn look on Lois' face told Chloe she'd have to talk her cousin out of playing a bigger part in the apocalypse coming. But that was for tomorrow. For tonight, it was just her and Dean.

Reaching out, she took his hand. He tugged on her, drawing her across the seat until she was hugged up close to his side, her head on his shoulder. She played with the buttons of his shirt, popping a few open and sliding her hand beneath to stroke across his chest. His fingers slid through her hair, down her neck before finally he was drawing figure-eights across her shoulder.

The drive to Homewood Suites was uneventful. Her eyes followed the dark road, watching cars pass them by, oblivious to the change her life had taken. She closed her eyes, though she could see the headlights pass by her lids. She listened to the _thump_ of his heart, felt it beneath her palm, and smiled to herself. For this moment, at least, her world was completely serene, verging on absolute perfection.

After parking the Impala in front of the hotel, they walked hand-in-hand through the parking lot and inside to the front-desk, passing by the busy lobby filled with armchairs and throw-rugs. Seeing the sign that boasted they were part of the Hilton conglomeration, he wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Should'a stopped and grabbed an video camera."

She snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Checking in," she said to the concierge, when they came to a stop in front of the desk.

"Names?"

"Robert and Maureen Plant," she replied, trying not to grin.

The desk clerk's lips quirked. "Hey, did you guys know—"

"Led Zeppelin?" Dean interrupted. "Yeah, we get that all the time." Impatient, he lifted his brows. "Key?"

"Right, sure, of course." Handing over the keycard, he nodded his head toward the elevator. "You made reservations for a King studio suite, non-smoking. Your room is on the third floor with an excellent view of all that Sioux Falls has to offer." He grinned welcomingly. "If you'd like, you can join other patrons in the Lodge tomorrow morning for the Suite Start Breakfast Buffet. And if you still have some energy to burn, we have a full pool and whirlpool area open to all guests."

Dean squeezed her waist, eyes turned upward as he waited for the man to finish his spiel.

"Thank you," Chloe said, backing away from the desk and laughing lightly when Dean dragged her quickly toward the elevator.

Finding it empty, he jabbed the button to the third floor and then backed her up against the wall as the doors were still closing. Chuckling, she wrapped her arms around his neck and grinned widely as he buried his mouth against her throat. Hands gliding down her back and flattening her dress, he slid them beneath to squeeze her thighs and dragged his palms up, pausing only to teasingly snap the garter he found before his fingers ventured higher, cupping her butt and kneading before he bent lower, hooked his hands around the backs of her thighs and lifted her until her legs circled his waist.

Hands kneading the nape of his neck, she dragged her fingers through his close-cropped hair and leaned down to slant her mouth across his. Her back hit the elevator wall once more while his long, lean body pinned her there. Pushing the layers of her dress up her legs, his thumb rubbed her hips. She felt the heat between her thighs _throb_ at the attention. She felt her body warm, shiver, awareness spreading across her skin as the heat of his body seeped into her skin.

Her mind began to fog with the intense understanding that this was _it_ ; that he was hers and she was his and all this pent up frustration between them would finally be filled. Air became a distant necessity, so focused were they on their mouths meeting and their hands petting. It wasn't until the elevator dinged, dragging their attention away that they were forced to part. He backed up, letting her legs down, and as they stepped out of the elevator, he took up the back, his hands on her waist, urging her forward.

She laughed. "There a reason you're hurrying?"

"Our luck? Something's gonna interrupt." He paused, twirling her then, and dragged her up until their chests met and her head tilted back. "I can multitask but as soon as your clothes are off, the whole world could go up in flames an' I won't care."

Her smile softened. Funny how that could be literal and she took it as truth.

Hands flexing on her hips, he bent to kiss her neck, his teeth scraping along her pulse.

Eyes fluttering, she almost walked right past the room. "Key," she managed, her voice a shuddery mess.

He looked up, dug the key out and ran it through, booting the door open for them to walk through. She wasn't surprised when he checked every lock, from the handle to the dead bolt to the extra chain. Backing up into the room, she watched him, the tense set of his shoulders beneath his pressed dress shirt. As he turned, she felt the heat of his gaze seeping into her skin. She bit her lip with awareness, in anticipation. His collar was open, revealing tanned flesh and just a hint of the protection symbol tattooed on his chest.

Her body seemed to heave with each indrawn breath; the air around her seemed crisp, even thin, like there wasn't enough to satisfy her lungs. He walked toward her, his gait wide, and she was reminded of when they first met, when he looked so much bigger than life. Like an avenging angel come to earth, which might've made her laugh now if she wasn't so focused on how close he was, within arm's reach. They'd only been together a month, but this afternoon they were married and they'd _yet_ to consummate what they were to each other.

She chuckled then, amused.

He lifted a brow. "Wanna share with the class?"

Stepping forward, she reached for his shirt and began unbuttoning it with purposely slow fingers, letting her thumbs linger against his chest, sliding down sinuous muscle. "I can't believe we waited until we were married to do this."

His mouth quirked with a half-smirk. "Not for lack of trying."

Grinning, she separated the fabric and slid her hands up to push it off his shoulders, tugging it off his arms and tossing it away. Chin tipped, she stared up at him. "How sure are we that Fate didn't lend a hand in this too?"

He scoffed under his breath. "Y'know if Fate didn't gimme you, I'd have some serious issues with that bitch."

"Bitch _es_. I hear there's three," she replied, undoing his belt and yanking it through the loops to toss over her shoulder.

"I'm losin' clothes but you're still wearin' too much," he said, eyes looking her up and down.

She smiled. "You won't hear any protests if you rectify that problem."

With a grin, he wrapped his arms around her, drew her in to him and then reached behind for the bow at her back. Lowering his head, he kissed her sweetly, his eyes meeting hers as he untied the satin waist. Nipping her lip affectionately, he buried his face in her neck, dragging the faint whiskers of his jaw against her skin and making her shudder, her eyes fluttering. His hands slid down her back, squeezed her butt and drew the ruffled layers of lace up her legs. Rolling the bottom into his hands, he pulled the whole dress up her body, drawing away so he could release it from her arms and pop it up over her head.

She hadn't been able to go lingerie shopping since she was out with Sam and Cas, but the black negligee she brought from home was one of her favorites, with a sheer demi cup bra and the same flowy fabric the whispered around her waist, just above the rim of her lace thong panties. Adding a bit of color was the white garter with its blue fringe, ringing her thigh.

He reached for it, snuck his curved finger beneath and drew it away from her thigh an inch. "Cute." He slid his full palm around her thigh; the rough texture of calloused skin, hard work, sent sparks throughout her leg. His free hand found her waist, wandering up beneath her negligee and along her side, stroking and petting the sensitive skin along her ribs. Bending his knees, he drew her up until she had her legs at his waist once more and was balanced high, looking down into his face.

Dragging her fingers through his hair, she pressed her forehead to his. "Taking your time now?" she wondered.

He half-smiled. "Just letting it sink in a bit."

She stroked his face. "It's real." Her mouth slanted across his, tongue teasing his lips apart, reaching for his, stroking slowly. She murmured between their parted mouths, "We're real."

His arm squeezed her waist then and he walked them back toward the bed, laying her out across it bereft of him for just a moment before his body was hard on top of hers. His fingers skimmed up her arm, along her shoulder, tickling her neck before they buried in her hair, cupping the nape of her neck. He stared at her a long moment, still slightly in awe; there was too much in his life that turned out bad and he kept waiting for her to disappear, to turn on him somehow. But it was the same tender eyes staring up, understanding, still the same mischievous quirk to her soft mouth, and the way she looked at him made his stomach flip over, his chest ache as his heart hammered.

Reaching up, she dragged her fingers down his face, smiling when he turned to kiss her palm and from there down to her wrist, smoothing his mouth bit by bit across the tender underside of her forearm. His fingers dragged the straps off her shoulder as his mouth skimmed along where one once sat and down the open expanse of her upper chest. He nuzzled the tops of her breasts, his mouth pressing small, soft kisses. Reaching behind her, he undid the clasp and dragged her top away, the flimsy sheer fabric ticklish as it slid across her waist. He dragged his chin down the valley of her breasts, rough whiskers scraping along the way. Her breath hitched, a shudder making her stomach clench against his.

He laid his cheek against one breast and looked up at her, half-smirking as his hand wandered lower. He walked two fingers along the top of her panties, teasing her flesh, before he delved his hand beneath and drew the fabric down. She lifted her knees and found herself naked except for the garter at her thigh. He dragged his fingers along her inner-thigh, drawing figure eights while he rubbed his whiskered cheek against her breast, stimulating her pebbled nipple.

She reached for him, burying a hand in his hair and squeezing. "Now's not the time to tease," she muttered through clenched teeth.

"It's the perfect time," he argued.

And before she could say more, he slid his fingers across her folds, spreading and rubbing against her wet heat but refusing to slide inside just yet. Her legs spread further and her body tensed, her chest inflating with her heavy, indrawn breath. Slowly, he slid his thumb around in circles, near but not touching her clit. His forefinger stroked up and down, pausing over her entrance before swirling away.

"Dean," she groaned, her eyes shut tight.

With a chuckle, he turned his head and took her nipple into his mouth, suckling and scraping his teeth along it, his tongue both soothing and encouraging the ache. She arched for him as both his tongue and finger clicked her nipple and clit in tandem before ignoring them once more in favor of making her squirm and pant, her hips jerking wantonly. She spread her hand down his back, her nails digging into the hard plain of his shoulder blade. She could feel his muscles contracting and flexing and despite how he teased her, she could tell he wanted to do more. From the way he panted against her breast, his tongue lashing her, to the heavy swipes of his fingers below, making her jump and moan. He tensed with each noise, as if he was just at the brink of giving in himself.

Fingers curved, he delved them inside her suddenly, two thick digits penetrating deeply, scissoring and spreading her wide. Her head lolled back, neck tight, while her stomach heaved up. She cried out, a broken whimper of pleasure escaping her lips. She loved his hands; how they molded and touched, comforted and teased, how large and male and course they could be. His thumb rubbed her clit while his fingers thrust in and out of her. His mouth switched to her opposite breast, a sharp change that made her body curl up into his, her hips moving in rhythm with his plunging fingers. She could feel wet heat across her thighs, from his teasing and now to his finally being inside her. She wanted more than his hand, but she took comfort in knowing that tonight she would, tonight was theirs.

Her thighs were tensing, her slit throbbing, and she could feel it building up inside her, hovering at the edge of acute bliss. His hand moved faster, as if he knew, his thumb flicking her clit, and she felt all the air escape her as she arched up and came, pouring every indescribable feeling into hoarsely shouting his name. A flood of pleasure hit her, making her entire body numb with everything good for a few seconds. But just as she was coming down, his mouth had gone south and his tongue was lapping at her, his nose rubbing her clit. Within seconds, he had her at a high precipice. Fingers digging into the blanket beneath her, she whimpered, biting her lip.

Hands spreading her thighs, his thumbs separated her folds for his tongue to explore, to taste every wet, shaking inch. She was near delirious as he slid his tongue inside and swirled it in deep circles. Sobbing his name, she shook her head, her hips jerking up to meet his probing mouth. As much as she was sure she couldn't take another orgasm, she wanted it and her body refused to ignore the intense flood of pleasure coming from him. He withdrew his tongue, kissing and suckling her every inch, stroking her clit with the tip of his tongue.

"Please… Dean, please…" She wasn't even sure what she was asking for anymore.

One of his hands reached for her breast, kneading, his thumb circling her nipple, while the other slid beneath his chin, fingers sliding home once more while he flicked his tongue back and forth and all around her sensitive clit. It didn't take long for her to come again; she had her hands wrapped around his forearm lying atop her stomach, her nails digging in.

Panting, sweat already dampening her temples, she lifted her head to see him, resting his chin on her thigh, licking his glistening lips. He looked up at her, his eyes dark, promising. He lifted up onto his arms to crawl higher, pausing once to kiss the crease of her hip, scraping his teeth along it before his body was spread across hers once more, his mouth hovering atop hers while his lower half, still wearing pants, fit in between her thighs. Tipping her chin, she met his mouth, her tongue stroking his lower lip before meeting his, tangling. Her hands slid down his sides, pausing over his ribs when he shuddered, shaking against her. Sliding further, she reached for the button and zipper on his pants, undoing them both before she shoved the fabric down his lean hips. He shook his leg, dragging them lower and shuffled back and forth until they were gone.

Reaching for the waist of his boxer-briefs, she snapped them. "And here I thought you might go commando," she murmured.

He laughed. "Thought about it."

"Yeah?" She reached inside to wrap her fingers around his length and squeezed. "So why didn't you?"

His brow furrowed, jaw falling loose as he jerked up into her hand. "S-Seemed… little disrespectful." He cursed under his breath as her fingers stroked him, slow and teasing, retribution.

"And since when do you care if you're disrespecting anyone?" she teased, swiping her thumb along the head of his cock, spreading pre-come before she twisted her wrist and slid her palm down the underside.

"Married man… gotta start respectin' _some_ things…"

Wrapping an arm around his neck, she nipped his chin affectionately. "Don't change on me too much."

He scoffed. "You're stuck with me now. After the I Do's it all went downhill for ya."

She grinned. "That right?"

He cocked a brow. "Can't get much better."

"You sure?" She slid her free hand down to join her other and stroked him in opposite directions, one grip tight while the other was loose.

"Hell…" His head fell, face buried against her shoulder. "Keep that up and this is all gonna end real damn early."

She chuckled lightly, turning her head to bite his ear lightly.

Reaching low, he drew her hands away, panting. "Message received. Teasing isn't nice…" he groaned.

"On the contrary," she argued before hooking her thumbs around his boxers once more and pushing them down. "But I think we've teased each other enough this last month… Don't you?"

Looking up at her, his eyes fell to her mouth, and he nodded.

With a little shifting, his briefs were tossed and he lay bare between her soft thighs.

He laughed slightly. "Feels kinda surreal."

Carding her fingers through his hair, she nodded. "I keep waiting for a knock at the door or the phone to ring or smoke signals to let us know the world's ending and we're missing it."

His mouth quirked on one side. "Left my cell at home, locked the door and the curtains are closed…" He nuzzled her nose with his. "Besides… I'd rather be inside you when the world goes to hell than watch it burn."

She didn't know why, but those words made her chest ache in the best way.

She slid her hands down his shoulders, feeling the corded muscles there tense and jump. "End of Days clock is ticking…" Tilting her hips, she wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into the back of his thighs. "And I'm wetter than I've ever been so—"

She saw the fire heat up his eyes at that and a shudder slid through her body, her breasts tightening in response.

"Just to be sure…" He slid a hand between them, fingers stroking her folds, flicking randomly at her clit, he grinned as she began bucking against him, her chest tightening in response to her panting breaths. Bending his head, he caught a nipple between his lips and teased it with his tongue. Hips flexing, she spread her legs wide, bracing them on the bed as his fingers probed her slit once more, stroking her close to a third climax.

"N-Not fair," she stuttered, trying to find her control and failing.

He chuckled against her breasts, the vibrations sending shivers down her spine.

"Mmph," she muffled a cry as he rubbed her clit, a finger sliding inside and thrusting shallowly.

"Come on, Goldi…" He rubbed his cheek against her breast. "Let go."

Her toes curled as the rest of her relaxed just a fraction of a second before her orgasm washed over her in a fantastic implosion of ecstasy, doubling as he slid deep inside her, finally, firmly, the full length of him was stretching and filling her. Back arched up, her breasts flattened against his chest. One hand buried in her hair, fingers tight at the nape of her neck, his mouth found her fluttering pulse at her neck, teeth and tongue teasing it as she twisted and rocked her hips. He didn't move for a long minute, just stayed there, the most incredibly fulfilling feeling she'd ever known throbbing deep inside her.

He was mumbling at her shoulder. "Oh God…"

Reaching down, he gathered up one of her thighs, dragging it high on his side before he slowly withdrew from her. She swore she could feel every inch of him, pulsing, thick, rubbing against her still shaking walls. With the tilt of her hips, she could feel his shaft sliding along her clit, and then he was pushing back in, quicker, harder. She reached up, grabbing his shoulders, and let her nails dig into his skin. He was thrusting so hard inside her, they were moving up the bed an inch with each one. A spike of near-orgasm went through her every time he slid inside, curtailed by his slow, teasing exit. She could hardly put up with it; how close and yet how far she was.

Sweat broke out across his skin, making his body slide easily against her own. The rubbing of his chest against her nipples had her biting her lip. His panting breath beat against her neck, smooth lips kissing along her shoulder. The pressure building inside made her breath catch, her chest ache, but then it was gone, and she couldn't take it. Suddenly, she rolled him onto his back, her knees biting into the mattress. And straddling him, held up by his hands at her waist, she began rocking, lifting her hips and feeling empty as she drew high enough to feel just the tip of him still inside her. Hands braced on his chest, she lowered herself once more, twirling her hips and clenching all around him as she slid down inch by inch.

His fingers flexed against her hips, squeezing. He rocked upward, a little faster now, letting her know his control was waning. She grinned, her head falling back, hair stuck to her neck. Hand sliding up her damp stomach, he cupped one of her breasts, his rough palm rubbing her nipple. She leaned into his touch, covering his hand with her own, their fingers sliding between each others. Able to control the pace, she moved quicker as she felt the fluttering in her stomach, the throbbing at her clit. He was panting harshly, his chest tight, and she stared down into his dark hazel eyes, at her husband. The mere thought had her shuddering with delight, clenching all around him.

He reached between them, his finger rubbing her clit roughly and she couldn't keep her hips from jerking hard, from working herself up and down, taking him all inside her and letting her restraint go. She cried out, her body arching high, as she climaxed not once but twice as he kept moving inside her, pushing her on. Boneless, she was ready to pass out on top of him before he flipped her over onto her back and moved to his knees, hauling her legs up at his sides once more.

Thrusting slowly, he kept her going, kept the spikes of pleasure zinging up and down her thighs and deep inside her core. Tears sprung to her eyes, of pleasure and frustration. "One more," he said thickly. "One more."

She wasn't sure she could handle another but her hips lifted, meeting his penetrating thrusts and enjoying how full he made her feel, how _loved_. In the past, lovemaking with Jimmy hadn't had the same effect. It was good, it was fulfilling, but it never felt life-altering, like she could give up the rest of her existence just to keep doing it. He was a good man and he always took care of her in bed, but the world didn't tip sideways or spin off its axis between them. With Dean, she could hardly remember to breathe, she just wanted more, wanted all of him. She wanted to feel his hands stroking her sides, kneading her breasts, his tongue and his mouth everywhere.

His thumb was rubbing her clit, circles and flicks, while he knelt before her, his back tight, his chest damp with sweat, tight and muscled, and she stared up at him, at the determination on his face, at the tense set of his jaw. As if this was all for her, as if he could do this all night just to make her scream, to have her come for him. Her head fell back, her hands digging into the blanket as she lifted up for him, spreading herself wide, wanting him there, even if she was hoarse and exhausted. But as he drove into her now, she reached for him, spreading a hand across his tensed stomach, stroking up his sides. She wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, nails teasing up and down, and as he leaned down toward her, his thrusts growing deeper but slowing down, she reached between them, delving her hand beneath to slowly stroke the sensitive area behind his scrotum where his perineum lay.

He jerked. " _Fuck!_ "

She continued to graze her short nails along the same sensitive area, making him lose his rhythm.

"Chloe…" he panted against her mouth, his eyes closed tight.

She kissed his lips lightly. "Come with me, Dean…"

Jaw ticking, his eyes opened, catching hers. Sliding his hand down her arm, he found her fingers and dragged them up, twining them with his, palm to palm, hands lying against the bed. Bending his head, he met her mouth, slanting his lips across hers, their tongues dancing just as intimately as he moved quicker, delving deep inside her, rubbing against her sweet spot just right. He didn't slow, didn't tease her, instead he fucked her hard and deep until she was a shaking mass of ecstasy sobbing his name against his shoulder. Simultaneously, he was crying her name in a guttural shout, his damp cheek pressed to her hair.

Shaking from the inside out, Chloe could hardly find the energy to open her eyes. Legs loosening, they fell back against the bed, spread wide apart and numb. With the last bit of strength Dean had, he rolled over onto his back, dragging her with him so she was sprawled atop his body. Face stuck to his sweaty chest, she smiled, her eyes falling closed as she listened to his pounding heart. "So… That's what we were missing out on, huh?"

Stroking his fingers up and down her spine, he snorted. "Not over yet."

"Easy Big Guy, some of us need a moment of recovery."

He smirked cockily.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled regardless.

Reaching for her, he brushed the bangs from off her face, tucking them behind her ear. "You all right?" he wondered, lips falling into a purse.

"You mean after your enthusiasm?" She smiled. "Yeah. I'm fine."

He lifted a shoulder. "Should be thankful. That was some of my best work."

She laughed. "Some of?"

"We've got the rest of the night still."

Even though her thighs were sore and she seriously needed a shower, she was looking forward to that.

…

The water was steaming hot, just the way she liked it. Sam went all out when he got them a room with a Jacuzzi tub and she was going to thank him for the thought tomorrow. Sitting on her side of the tub, naked and enjoying the sudsy bubbles and the pressure across her body, she leaned back, arms floating atop the water. Reaching her leg out, she slid her foot across Dean's thigh and up to his chest. Wrapping a hand around her ankle, he ran his thumb deftly up in the arch of her foot and kneaded away the tension left behind.

"You're startin' to wrinkle," he told her, squeezing one of her toes.

She grinned, lifting a brow. "Already? I thought we had a couple decades before grey hairs and wrinkles."

"Obviously I got the bad end of this marriage deal, since I'm still wrinkle-free."

She opened an eye to look over at him. "No wrinkles. Any where?" She wiggled her toes. "I might have to prove that."

He smirked. "I'm an open-book. Have at it."

Smiling, she drew her foot back from him and slid over to his side of the Jacuzzi, straddling his waist and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Where should I start?"

Arms encircling her, he squeezed lightly, leaning forward until the tips of their noses bumped. "Wife's choice…" He kissed her chastely. "Be thorough."

"Mm. As if I'd willingly fall down on the job." Slanting her mouth across his for a deeper kiss, her hands slid down his chest, spreading along wet, firm skin before delving beneath the water to wrap around his length. "Sit still or this will only take longer."

He laughed against her mouth and broke off into a thick moan as her hands began stroking. "What happened to bath time being your recovery period?"

"Are you _really_ complaining?"

He pursed his lips. "No."

She smiled. "Good. Besides… I'm feeling very recovered already."

"Yeah?" He dragged his hand down her back, kneading. "'Cause I can fix that."

She narrowed her eyes playfully. "You're just trying to distract me from my mission."

His brows furrowed. "What _was_ that again?"

"Finding proof that you're just as wrinkled as I am…" She grinned. "Prepare to be explored."

He waved a hand at her. "Explore away."

Thoroughly and with great attention, she did just that. When she thanked Sam for the Jacuzzi tub, she'd be sure to leave any details _why_ behind.

…

Chloe was fairly sure she'd never had so much sex during her entire relationship with Jimmy or in the ways she had with Dean. Sprawled back across the bed, panting, an arm tossed behind her head, she was proud to see the man next to her in the same exhausted state. Looking over at her, he grinned tiredly. "When those wrinkles do set in, I'm gonna have to buy stock in Viagra."

She laughed and rolled over to rest her head on his shoulder. "You think we'll be this bendy when we're that old?"

He snorted. "Maybe not… Doesn't mean we won't _try_."

Her eyes rolled up to his. "I think I'd like seeing you old and wrinkly… Probably crankier than Bobby, but I bet you'd make a cute old guy."

Dean frowned. "You got a thing for old dudes?"

Chuckling, she shook her head. "Nope, just you. Silver hair and laugh lines; I think you could pull it off."

He smirked. "Yeah, I wasn't bad."

Her brows furrowed wonderingly.

"I never told you about the time I lost a poker game and aged like forty years?" His lips pursed. "Thought I told you that one."

Amused, she settled in for the story. He had the kind of life that made her feel like she wasn't entirely crazy, but just living the kind of existence that would let her understand him better, accept him in all of his crazy glory.

"All right, before I get into this, just so you know…" His eyes widened for emphasis, "I am _awesome_ at poker. This was just a really bad fluke."

With a snort, she shook her head at his arrogance. "Go on, Poker Champ, explain you're one fluke failure."

"Okay, so it was really kinda Bobby's fault…"

She pursed her lips to keep from laughing.

…

"We should sleep," she murmured tiredly. Curled up next to Dean's side, arm stretched across his waist, her fingers stroked along his ribs absently. Outside, the sun was coming up, a brilliant orange and pink fled inside the window to light up their room.

"In a minute…" His fingers dragged up and down her forearm, his eyes set outside on the sunrise. Their night was over; their laughter and the freedom to smile and enjoy each others was ending. Sliding his fingers through her hair, he kissed her forehead and sighed. Right then, he would have happily given up just about anything to spend the rest of the weekend just between them, getting rug-burn in places they shouldn't and drinking wine in the Jacuzzi tub while sharing stories of their past, stories that didn't yet involve the depression of the apocalypse.

Her breath was evening out, skittering across his chest, and he knew she'd fallen asleep. He didn't mind; he just wanted to hold her. They'd spent hours working up a sweat, making up for lost time, and while he didn't think he'd ever get his fill, he was drained. He glanced down at his hand against her arm, at the braided platinum ring he wore and his mouth twitched with a grin. He dragged his thumb across it, felt a tug at his heart and then searched her hand out and linked their fingers together.

As the sun spread deeper into the room, he closed his eyes. He'd deal with life when he woke up, for now he'd just enjoy the last bit of what he'd gained, forgetting for a time that he may eventually lose it all.


	37. Chapter Thirty-Six

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXXVI**.

Leaving the hotel was bittersweet; they hadn't brought any extra clothes and so they were in the same dress and suit from the wedding, a little rumbled but good enough. Deciding they'd shower when they had clean clothes to get into, they left the room just before eleven and walked silently, hand-in-hand, to the elevator. Dean gathered her up against his chest, his chin resting on top of her head as he held her, watching the numbers fall like a countdown. They dropped the key off with reception and walked out toward the gleaming Impala waiting in the parking lot, letting go of each other only long enough to climb in on either side. The drive back to Bobby's was much the same as it had been leaving, with her curled up into his side, her fingers stretching beneath his shirt to stroke his chest absently. Only now they didn't have their night alone to look forward to but the possible end of the world to dread.

Dirt kicked up as they pulled into the Salvage yard, cutting the engine just outside the stairs leading into the house. Chloe moved to reach for the passenger door, pausing when he squeezed her shoulder. She looked back at him wonderingly.

He stared at her a moment. "I love you."

She smiled. "I love you, too." Leaning in, she met his lips, burying her fingers around his neck and holding on, letting herself drown in that last moment of perfection.

"Hey!" A wrap of fingers against the passenger door window caught their attention and Chloe turned to see Lois standing there. "Didn't you guys get enough of that last night?"

She snorted. "Is there a time-limit?"

"When _I'm_ here? Yes. Yes, there is."

"Consider this the one and only time you _visit_ ," Dean muttered, frowning.

She glared at him before turning her attention back to Chloe. "Save the details. Right now, you need to fill me in on this whole apocalypse thing and how I can help." Hands on her hips, she stared at her cousin stubbornly.

Chloe turned back to Dean and sighed. "You mind if I talk her out of this alone?"

He shook his head. "I need a shower anyway." Leaning back across, he kissed her, shorter than he wanted to thanks to Lois' incessant knocking at the window.

Climbing out of the car, he frowned at her. "You gotta work on that patience thing."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered before turning back to Chloe as she climbed out of the car. "I know that look!" She stared at Chloe warily. "Don't try and talk me out of this, all right? If you can go down fighting the big fight, _I_ can too!"

"Lo…" She smiled gently. "I'm here, fighting this, because it's not just my fight. It's _Dean's_."

"And Dean's officially family, marriage means passing the torch, which means technically, _not_ helping makes me an _awful_ cousin."

She blinked. "That's… an interesting way of twisting logic." Tipping her head, she sighed. "Look, for all I know, the apocalypse comes knocking tomorrow… You're not prepared; you don't even know _exactly_ what's going on. All you know is I married a hunter of monsters and I'm friends with an angel of the lord… Oh, and the devil's a little vengeful after you see him kill his brother."

"Wait, _what?_ "

She shook her head. "The point is… I'm here because when I die, _if_ I die, I'll be with Dean and that… That makes it _worth_ it somehow." She stared searchingly up at her. "D'you really wanna die here with us when you have this chance to spend it with someone else?" Reaching out, she took her hands. "I know me and Clark aren't close anymore—"

She scoffed. "Understatement."

"Regardless…" She smiled. "You _love_ him, Lo… Wouldn't you rather spend the last days of your life hanging out with the big, dumb a—" She caught herself. " _Awesome_ boyfriend of yours?"

Lois chewed her lip. "Well… I guess he _is_ kind of worth watching the world end with…" She pursed her lips. "Even if I _could_ be a serious asset in ending the apocalypse."

Chloe grinned. "Of course you could… And if at any point I need your help, I have you on speed-dial. All right?"

Frowning, her shoulders fell. "Yeah, okay… I'll go back to Metropolis." She sighed long and dramatically. "But that doesn't mean I'll like it."

She wrapped an arm around her. "That's just because you're a fighter. Trust me, when you've got Clark in front of you, you'll understand why I sent you home."

"Ugh!" she scoffed. "In-love-Chloe is _way_ too happy-go-lucky."

She snorted. "Gee, thanks."

Slinging an arm around Chloe's shoulder, she shrugged. "Looks good on you, though. This whole in-love-and-married glow…" She nodded toward the house. "Smokin' looks aside, he seems like a pretty good guy."

Her smile softened. "He is."

"Better be." Her eyes narrowed menacingly. "'Cause if he ever hurts you—"

"Castration and severe ass-kicking," she interrupted, smiling. "I know."

"Just make sure _he_ does too."

Chuckling, Chloe started walking them toward the house. "Were you good while I was gone?"

"Hmm…" Her lips pursed. "Define _good_ …"

"Lois…" she sighed, looking up at him.

" _What?_ What kind of angel drinks coffee anyway? I figured decaf might _at least_ remove the stick from his butt."

Chloe slapped her forehead. "You _didn't!_ "

When Lois smirked, she knew she was in for insanity.

…

"It looks like coffee, tastes like coffee, but it doesn't _feel_ the same," Castiel told her, glaring at the selection of various coffee flavors in front of them. A trip to the grocery store was the only thing that had calmed him down when he started feeling shaky without his caffeine.

"It was a cruel, cruel joke, I'll admit," she told him.

"Your cousin is very unusual."

"Yes."

He glanced at her. "I find her very physically appealing but I dislike her at the same time." He shook his head. "I don't understand that."

Chloe laughed. "Don't worry. She has that effect on people."

He scowled. "I'm not regular people."

Reaching over, she patted his shoulder. "It's all right, Cas. She'll be going home soon and you'll have your coffee again."

He nodded shortly. "I would prefer that."

Finding his favorite flavor, she stocked up and led them back toward the checkout counter.

Her life was weird. She grinned. And she kind of liked it that way.

…

With Chloe out of the house, Dean had thought he and her cousin might get to know each other better. So far, all she seemed interested in was scamming them, though. He, Sammy and Lois were all crowded around a small table in Bobby's office.

"What kind of bet is _that?_ " Lois scoffed, staring at the center of the table.

"A safe one," Sam replied, rolling his eyes.

She scoffed. "Baby." Pushing twice as many chips into the pile, she smirked. "Well, Winchester?" She cocked a brow at Dean. "Call or fold."

He pursed his lips, eyed her, and then met her same bet.

She grinned. "Let's see 'em, Hotshot."

He flipped his cards over and she whistled.

"Straight Flush… Very nice." A smirk slowly curved her mouth, her brow raising mockingly. "Unfortunately not as good as a _Royal_ though."

He cursed, shaking his head at her. "You're a shark, y'know that?"

She winked. "And proud of it." Dragging her chips toward her, she looked over to Bobby. "Hey Pops, you want in? I'm beating these boys out of their _hardly_ earned money…"

Bobby scoffed. "Ya get too cocky and I'll have to show ya how a _real_ game of poker's played."

"Ooh, high stakes or strip?"

Sam looked to Dean, eyes slightly wide.

He rolled his eyes. "She's not takin' anything off; don't get your panties in a wad."

Chuckling, Bobby joined them at a table. "Deal 'em out, Lane. Let's see what you got."

With a grin, she gathered up the cards. "You asked for it."

…

When Chloe and Cas got back to Bobby's, there was shouting coming from the office. Immediately worried, she hurried in only to find Bobby, Dean and Sam half-naked. There was entirely too much bare skin for her to take in at first. She glanced back at Cas, wondering if maybe she was seeing things, but his own furrowed brows only confirmed her suspicions.

With a sigh and her eyes narrowed, she looked around at them questioningly. " _What_ are you guys doing?"

Lois grinned over at her. "They wanted to play poker."

She sighed, shoulders slumping. "Lo-is… What have I told you about sharking people we know?"

"Hey! They deserved it!" She eyed them smugly. "As if growing up on an ARMY base didn't teach me a thing or two." She pointed a thumb back. "Even grandpa thought he could take me."

Cas, seeing no danger, simply sipped his coffee, glaring absently at Lois.

"And they're half-naked _because…?_ "

"They wanted to play with the big girls and they ran out of cash…" She leaned back in her chair, tossing an arm over the back and looking entirely too arrogant. "I've gotta get my due _one_ way or another."

Chloe blinked. "I'm going to go make lunch."

"Yeah, I'll help," Sam hopped up from his chair hurriedly.

Dean reached over and shoved him back down. "My wife, my help." Dragging on his jeans, he left his seat and followed after her, wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her up off the floor, burying his face in her neck.

"Yeah, lunch is gonna be awhile," Lois muttered before turning to Cas. "Hey Angel-boy, you look like you're packing something nice under the trench coat, pull up a chair."

He eyed the table and then the two remaining men. "How is the game played?"

She grinned. _Like candy from a baby…_

…

Chloe re-buttoned her top, realizing it was still askew and glared at a grinning Dean, who was whistling under his breath like the cat that caught the canary. "Like they aren't going to notice lunch took over an hour to make and we're only having soup and sandwiches," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

He shrugged, taking a bite of his cold and slightly burned grilled cheese and stuffing it into one cheek to talk through. "We should get a little leeway."

"Is the table set?" she wondered.

He looked into the dining room and frowned. "Kinda."

She rolled her eyes. "Dean…"

He held his hands up and went to finish setting it up. Shaking her head, Chloe went back to the office to tell the others it was time to eat, only to find Lois in only her underwear and a shirtless Cas sitting with a fully-dressed Sam and Bobby now only watching and apparently trying to give the angel tips.

"Do I need to hide the cards?" Chloe wondered, walking further in.

"What?" Lois looked up distractedly. "Oh. No, no. I've got him right where I want him."

"Really?" She looked her up and down. "Because you're down to very little."

"Which is why I won't _lose!_ " she growled.

Brows furrowed, she looked to Cas. "Since when do you play poker?"

"Since the She-Devil taunted me," he replied, eyes narrowed at her feisty cousin.

"And your idea to get back at her was to get her naked?" Rolling her eyes, she lifted her hands. "Never mind. I don't want to know. Lunch is ready. I'll be in the dining room."

"Well?" Lois said, staring at Cas demandingly. "Let's see your cards, Decaf!"

He glared at her but laid them down for her to see, half-smiling when her jaw twitched.

Tossing her cards down, she growled, "Fine."

Dean walked into the room just in time for Lois to whip her bra off. "Whoa!" He turned around, facing away, his eyes wide. "Cas, buddy, where the hell you been hidin' _that_ skill?"

"Lois! Put some clothes on!" Chloe shouted from the dining room knowingly. "And guys… _Stop_ staring at my cousin!"

With grumbles of having to be elsewhere or do something else, everybody but Cas left the room, pretending nothing happened.

"I win," he declared to the nearly naked Lois Lane. Rising from his seat, he lifted his chin proudly and walked out of the room.

"Stupid caffeinated angels and their stupid luck," she muttered under her breath, gathering up her clothes.

…

Shortly after lunch, Chloe went looking for her favorite cousin.

"So…" She eyed Lois as she sat on the steps leading to Bobby's front door. Taking a seat next to her, she bumped her cousin's shoulder with her own. "Do I need to call and warn Clark that you have a habit of undressing in front of multiple people, even when _not_ drunk?"

Lois rolled her eyes. "I was sure I had him," she scoffed, shaking her head. "If I didn't know he was low on angel mo-jo, I'd say he switched those cards somehow…"

Chloe grinned. "You know… I wouldn't be surprised." Her brows lifted. "He's picked up a lot hanging out with the guys."

Interested by this, Lois turned toward her. "You think I should ask for a rematch?"

Already trying to get up, Chloe had to drag her back down. "Let's leave the strip-poker for, well… How about I never catch you playing that with my husband or friends again? Kay?"

She snorted. "Please, as if I'm interested in any of them!" Leaning back on her elbow, she replied, "And FYI, a cousin as awesome as I am would _never_ poach on your soul mate." With a chuckle, she added, "And trust me, he's not _interested_ in anyone but you."

She looked back at her, brows furrowed. "Uh, _thanks?_ "

"Chloe…" Lois smiled at her knowingly. "I know you have a crap record with guys, but…" She glanced back at the house to make sure nobody else was listening in. "He watched the clock the whole time you were gone, and you only went out for _coffee_ … And trust me, I know that look, Clark's been giving me it for ages," she boasted. "And Dean practically _breathes_ that look when you're around."

A soft smile drew her mouth up and she looked away as if to hide it.

"Not to mention, you're _mirroring_ it…" Lois sighed knowingly, her brows lifted high for emphasis.

"So you don't think it's a little… sudden? Us getting married this quickly?" she worried.

Scoffing, she sat up and wrapped an arm around Chloe's shoulders. "I'm only going to say this once, okay? The whole world is going to shit and, well, you were right…" She rolled her eyes. "The only person I'd want to spend it with is _Clark_. Which means you and Dean getting married, having a little hope, that's…" She sighed. "It's not sudden when it's right… 'Kay?"

Chloe returned her hug, resting her head on Lois' shoulder. "I'm really gonna miss you when you go."

"That's what cell phones and jets are for… Oliver owes me a few, anyway. And his pilot knows me by name!"

Grinning, she chuckled under her breath. "Given how often you try to use your ex's plane for sleuthing in different cities, I'm really not surprised…"

"Yeah, well, you're lucky I didn't bring the whole league with me… Their little Watchtower was getting married and they didn't get an invite, somehow I think that's gonna come back to bite you in the ass."

"No…" She smiled. "Ollie will at least understand. He knows the gist of what's been happening here. The others, well… Who knows, if this all lasts a little longer, maybe we'll have a second, bigger ceremony… Or just a party."

"Ooh, I vote party, with barbecue!"

Lifting her head, she stared wonderingly at Lois. "Have you been spending a lot of time with _Bart_ lately?"

She pursed her lips. "So what if I use him as my personal coffee fetcher! He should be proud I even remember his _name_ …"

"Oh Lois…" She rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. Her cousin was one of a kind.

"You think Cas would let me have a mug of his coffee?" she wondered. "I've been craving it since I snagged some off him yesterday."

She really tried not to laugh outloud, but the tug-o-war in her head between Cas and Lois over a pot of coffee had her breaking out in a fit of laughter.

 _Priceless_ , really.

…

Standing in the airport, Chloe held tight to Dean's hand as they waited for the boarding call to see Lois off. With Cas, Bobby and Sam at their backs and Lois checking her handheld for the third time, she felt like she was standing in between two lives. The one she'd thought she had finally figured out, that she fit in, and the one that she'd been fated to live and never knew it. With Lois there was the League and newspaper ink, there were girls' weekends with karaoke and gossip, there was her team and her computers and a history of bad decisions and worse outcomes. And with Dean there was loss and love and family, friendships borne of suspicion and loyalty, and a calling she felt from the depths of her heart up.

Finally, the call came for Metropolis passengers and Lois paused, looking over at them with a forced smile. "Well, guess I'm outta here."

"It was nice havin' you… When you weren't loud, naked or getting in the way," Dean said, half-smiling.

She snorted. "Thanks for inviting me." She stuffed her hands in her pockets and rocked back and forth on her heels. "For a too-sacrificial-for-his-own-good narcissist, you're not half bad…" With all the sudden voracity she was known for, she reached over and hugged him. "Take care of her," she asked quietly.

Hugging back awkwardly, he nodded. "I will."

Stepping back, she looked to Bobby and Sam. "Sorry about the whole… strip-poker thing…" She shrugged. "I get competitive."

Bobby grinned. "Highlight of the last ten years."

"Awkward," Sam said to Bobby, flushing as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, no worries. It was nice meeting you, Lois."

"You too, BFG." She smiled to soften the insult. Turning her attention to Cas, her expression was both amused and irritated. "Y'know, if I wasn't already dating someone and you weren't in somebody else's body, I might just like you."

His brows furrowed at her in confusion.

She grinned. "See ya around, Angel-boy." With a wink, she then turned to Chloe. "And I'll miss you most of all!"

"Duh!" Reaching across, Chloe gathered her into a hug. "I'm gonna miss you too."

Lois squeezed tightly. "Hey, just in case this whole world ending thing _does_ happen… Y'know I really love you, right? I-I mean you're my true-blue family a-and—"

"Lo?" She rubbed her back. "I know. I've always known."

"Okay." She cleared her throat. "Well…" Sniffling, she drew back. "Just… Be safe, all right?" She wiped at her face quickly.

Chloe smiled gently. "I will. And you, too."

Nodding, she smiled for her own benefit and then grabbed up her duffel bag. "World doesn't end, I'm visiting for Christmas." With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, hips swaying.

Laughing at her arrogance, Chloe stepped back into Dean's arms. "I love that woman."

"If this is your way of asking for some freaky cousin threesome thing, I am totally—"

Snorting, she slapped his stomach, ending his teasing.

He chuckled, resting his chin on top of her head. "Kidding. Totally kidding."

Sam shook his head. "Doubt it."

Dean reached over and socked him in the shoulder.

"All right…" Bobby sighed. "Back to life as usual then." He glanced at Chloe and Dean and half-smiled. "Mostly."

"Anybody else hungry? I could really go for a burger," Dean muttered.

"I'm thirsty," Cas offered.

"Lemme guess, for _coffee_ ," Sam said, rolling his eyes.

Chloe laughed lightly.

Much as she loved her cousin, she was happy with the life she chose.

…

With dinner behind them, Dean and Chloe sat on the porch swing, watching as the sky fell from blue to pink and darkened slowly.

Arm around her shoulders, stroking her arm absently, he glanced at her pensive expression. "You miss havin' your cousin around?"

She half-smiled. "Kind of. It was a short visit, but…" She shrugged, wrapping an arm around his waist and squeezing. "Just seeing her was enough."

He sighed, pursing his lips. "Enough to last a lifetime?"

She wrinkled her nose, amused. "Is this your way of asking that she never come back?"

He snorted. "It'd be appreciated, but no. I meant…" He shook his head. "Could be the last time you see her… ever."

Sobering, she nodded. "I know… And it's probably not enough, but… Getting to see her at all, knowing that she was here for my wedding…" She looked up at him, a smile lifting her lips. "Thank you for that."

He shrugged it off, looking away. "She was all right."

Chloe chuckled. "She was loud and obnoxious… just the way I like her."

He scoffed, cocking a brow as if he questioned her insanity.

"You get used to it," she assured.

"You say so," he muttered, frowning to himself.

They sat in silence a long moment, just their breathing and wind whistling through the junk yard to fill their ears. The security lights flashed on, painting them in a faint glow as the sky darkened to pitch black. As the wind grew chilly, she leaned into him closer, burrowing her head against his shoulder. Her hand at his waist fled up his shirt to steal his heat, stroking the sensitive skin across his ribs. She could feel as his body tensed at her touch, as he responded to the light stoke of her fingertips tracing a few old scars.

"Cold?" he asked her, his voice falling to a rough pitch that made a shudder slide down her spine, tightening her belly.

Tipping her head back, she looked up at him, at his hazel eyes as they darkened promisingly. His hand slid up from her arm and buried in her hair, dragging her back a little more before he descended, his mouth slanting across hers possessively. She loved how he kissed her; how _absorbed_ by him she felt. Like he was staking claim and never willing to let go. She knew that some part of her, the independent woman inside, might cry out that she didn't need that, but… She liked knowing she was his; that some Fate out there had declared them _made for each other_. While it had confused and even worried her in the beginning, she felt like she understood it now, just how deep it went. Because it wasn't just physical, it was emotional and mental and it embodied every bit of them.

He turned toward her, the swing jolting at his sudden movements, and his arm wrapped tight around her waist. She'd blame it on the cold later, wanting to warm her legs as she threw one over his waist and straddled him. The skirt she wore did little to keep the chill off, but it gave him great access when his hands settled on her thighs and dragged upward, rough palms spurring her skin into goose-bumps of pleasure. Her breasts flattened against his as she leaned into him, ignoring air in favor of the drugging taste of his tongue tangling with hers. With one hand making its way up his chest, intent on feeling every hard plain of muscle, the other was carding through his hair, scoring down the back of his neck, pausing in between to stroke the shell of his ear.

He grunted, squeezing her thighs, his palms sliding around to cup her buttocks, kneading them.

Her hips rocked in reply, her core dampening as she pressed herself down against the bulge forming beneath his jeans. The denim felt course against her thighs, rubbing along the thin fabric of her panties. Despite the fact that just about anybody might see them, she still lowered her hand to undo the button and zipper of his pants, sliding her hand beneath to wrap around his shaft. He panted harshly against her mouth, his hands roughly grabbing either side of her panties and dragging them down her legs. She lifted one knee and then the other, letting him pull them off, and felt the cool breeze caress her beneath the thin shelter of her skirt.

Her mouth parted at the sensation, eyes falling closed. She felt entirely exposed, but looking into his eyes, she couldn't care less; she wanted him, needed him, and that was all that mattered. He stuffed her panties into his jeans pocket and then his hands were on her, his fingers spreading her folds, thumbs rubbing along her wet slit. There was something about the rough touch of his fingertips that always made her quiver; something utterly _male_ about it. Her wrist twisted as he flicked her clit, her hand squeezing his length tightly. His hips jerked up and she wanted him inside her, she didn't want to be teased or to tease him.

He chuckled against her mouth as if he could see her impatience, _feel_ it even, and two long fingers slid up inside her, rubbing her sweet spot while his thumb drew her circles along her clit. She rocked against his hand, leaning in until her forehead met his and she was panting, pleading, for him to let her come. He nipped her lip, his nose nuzzling hers, and then a third finger stretched her and her back arched, her breasts thrust forward as her head fell back. She hardly held back a cry of his name, clenching her teeth so she didn't alert the men inside the house to what was happening just outside on the porch.

Dean's free hand dragged her top and bra down, revealing her breasts to him and the cool air. Her nipples puckered immediately, tight and throbbing. His mouth descended on them hungrily, his tongue and death plucking and stroking. Dragging her fingers through his hair, she held his head to her, tugging at his hair each time his teeth grazed her just right. Her hips were gyrating, pushing down on the thick digits that moved deep inside her. She wanted more than his hand though and so she swiped her thumb along the pre-come that wet his erection and squeezed the end of him, making him jerk and the swing rock hard, off balance. He growled against her, the vibrations against her breast making her insides quiver.

His fingers fled her, curling around her thigh, damp and warm and squeezing. His other hand was applying pressure to her lower back, bringing her closer until she could feel him there, hard against her thigh. She readjusted her hand, brought his length to her slit and rubbed herself down against it. Her slick heat, so close but so far, had him gripping her hips hard, most likely leaving a few bruises. The flat of his tongue reached out and pressed against her breast and she moved closer, distracted. With a chuckle, he used her distraction to take control and tugged her down until she felt him sliding inside her, thick and throbbing and oh so perfect.

"Unh!" Her head fell back, neck tight and strained. She was completely certain that there was nothing better than having Dean Winchester inside her. He didn't move right around, instead his arms hugged her waist tight, hands splayed across her back and ascending higher, kneading her tight muscles into relaxation. He pressed his face between her breasts, faint whiskers nuzzled against either side, the soft expanse of skin rippled with goosebumps at the sensation. Her fingers buried in his hair, stroked down the back of his neck and around the shell of his ears. Lifting her head, she looked down at him, at the darkness of his hazel eyes and the underlying affection that was so potent in his face.

He pressed a kiss to the valley of her breasts and then his foot was kicking the swing into action and she was rocked forward, propelled, and her eyes fell closed as the new angle. The moving of the swing only added to it as he moved now, lifting her up before bringing her back down. Her knees bit into the wood of the swing, pain going unnoticed as she was stretched and filled and _fulfilled_ in every way. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, swept up his chest and then scored back down, her nails scraping along hard, firm skin and making him jerk as she grazed the sensitive flesh of his ribs. His hands were everywhere; rubbing her back, squeezing her butt, kneading her thighs, stroking her heat. Each rock forward of the swing had his length pressed against her clit and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

Faint light spilled from the window behind them, painting shadows along his face and her body. He traced them with his tongue and his fingers, along the undersides of her breasts and the hollows of her throat. She stroked his face, the lines of his cheekbones, his eyebrows, the striking angle of his jaw. She caught his mouth, panting, their tongues tangling and their lips slanting, back and forth, sloppy, desperate. She gripped his shoulders tight as the throbbing inside her increased, as ecstasy reached for her only to slip out of reach like the their swing moving to and fro.

"D-Dean…" she breathed, her damp cheek pressed to his.

Knowingly, he reached down between them, his rough finger stroking her clit in tandem with his strokes. Her thighs tightened, toes curling, and her body arched for him.

Finally, _finally_ , she was there. Flying, euphoric, engrossed in everything good. Her eyes fell closed, her breath caught, and a heat spread across her body, fanning like a fire that reached and curled and ate away at her cool skin. He thrust harder inside her, pushing her orgasm on, and she felt a ripple of a second, so sharp and distinct it brought tears to her eyes. His arm banded around her waist, squeezing hard and then he was grunting her name, whispering it, breathing it, over and over against her ear. She came again at the sound, at the rough but sensual way he growled her name like a prayer.

And then they were sitting there, still moving back and forth, the cold air lashing at their too warm skin. Her head fell to his shoulder, her mouth pressing soft, absent kisses to his neck. He stroked her back beneath her shirt, long fingers drumming along her spine. His panting was harsh in her ear while hers beat against his throat. She could fall asleep, she thought. Her eyes half-closed, her body falling into that peaceful relaxed state she always got when she was with him this way. One of his hands fell to stroke her thigh, rubbing life back into it. She knew she'd be sore later, when the euphoria wore off, but she couldn't regret it now.

It would be a few minutes before he gathered his strength and lifted up from the seat, carrying her upstairs to their room. He undressed them both, tossing her skirt and top and bra in a pile with his jeans and sweat-dampened shirt. Naked, they would lie together in bed, and she'd slip away slowly, wrapped in his arms and surrounded by his familiar heat. She knew life was calling, the war was coming, but every minute they got like this made her hope just a little more that they might get something better, they might last a little longer. And if not, then she had a pretty good idea of what heaven could give them.

…

He watched her sleep, ignoring the way his eyes felt heavy and his body sluggish. He should be doing the same, letting himself drift away into peace. Instead, he was worrying, wondering. This was all going to end, any second now, and it sent a pit to his stomach of epic proportions. There were options, the kind that only upset him more. What if Bobby was right? What if he had to pick between Sam and Chloe? His head said Sam, screamed it, his heart said different. And hell, when did he ever have to think about this kind of crap through anyway? Before her, the answer would have been easy. Sam. Always Sam. But now it wasn't just about him or her or Sam, it was all so much more difficult. If he picked Chloe and he let Sam do this, was he doing it because he trusted his brother or because he wanted to keep Chloe for as long as he could? And if he picked Sam, and Death came knocking, looking to destroy Chloe, then what? They'd probably already be dead anyway. They had no more options left. It was either Sam said yes and he tried to out Jedi mind trick the devil or the world went to shit…

Why'd he have to make this damn decision, anyway? Why the hell was it always _him?_

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he sighed. That was just _it_ , though. It _wasn't_ his decision, he was just making it for everybody, and they were letting him. If he told Sam it was up to him, was it the same as picking Chloe? He didn't know. He did know that he didn't want to choose, that he didn't want this war in any shape or form, and that when it came down to it… he really didn't have goddamn say in the matter.

Arms wrapped around his wife, he closed his eyes. He wondered if when it was all over, he'd still blame himself for all that went wrong.

 _Shit_.

Probably.


	38. Chapter Thirty-Seven

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXXVII**.

 _Carry on my wayward son_  
There'll be peace when you are done  
Lay your weary head to rest  
Don't you cry no more

\- _Carry On Wayward Son_ by **Kansas**

…

Wearing his ratty bathrobe, Chuck Shurley sat at his computer, typing enthusiastically...

_On April 21, 1967, the hundred-millionth GM vehicle rolled off the line at the plant in Janesville - a blue two-door caprice._

_There was a big ceremony, speeches. The lieutenant governor even showed up. Three days later, another car rolled off that same line. No one gave two craps about her. But they should have. Because this 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car - no, the most important **object** \- in pretty much the whole universe._

_She was first owned by Sal Moriarty, an alcoholic with two ex-wives and three blocked arteries. On weekends, he'd drive around giving bibles to the poor "gettin' folks right for judgment day." That's what he said. Sam and Dean don't know any of this, but if they did, I bet they'd smile._

_After Sal died, she ended up at Rainbow Motors, a used-car lot in Lawrence, where a young marine bought her on impulse. That is, after a little advice from a_ friend _. I guess that's where this story begins._

_And here's where it ends…_

…

On top of the Impala sprawled Sam Winchester, staring out into Singer Salvage, a cold beer in hand and the sound of a train whistling in the distance. Hearing the clomp of familiar footsteps, he turned to see Dean approaching him, his lips pursed and his expression serious. Wearing his same old, weathered, brown leather jacket, looking for all the world like the same guy Sam had grown up with, save for the wedding band on his left hand, he nodded at him.

Sam's brows quirked before he nodded back. "Hey."

Pausing next to him, Dean bent down and popped open the small blue and white cooler to grab out a beer of his own. He leaned back against the car, staring down at the bottle in his hand.

Curious, even worried, Sam looked over at him, his brows furrowed. "Dean…?" His mouth pursed when he got no reply but the twist of a cap. "What's going on?"

It was the kind of question that might garner a whole lot of results. After all, the end of the world was coming at them and quick. Just the day before last Dean Winchester got married and while Sam knew it was the best thing for both people involved, it worried him sometimes, the idea that one or both of them might be lost in the coming apocalypse. He'd finally gotten his brother back and he knew Dean couldn't suffer the devastating loss of Chloe in any way, shape or form. And with no sure idea on how to fight this, they were going in blinder than usual.

Dean licked the side of his mouth thoughtfully before saying, "I'm in," and tossing his bottle cap to the ground. He still hadn't raised his head, refusing to look back at him.

Brows furrowed, forehead wrinkled, Sam looked down and then back up, confused. "In with?" he asked, shaking his head.

Throwing his head back, he shook it. "The whole up with Satan thing…" He glanced at him from the corner of his eyes.

Sam sat forward against the Impala, shifting to sit sideways, both surprised and hopeful.

"I'm on board." He nodded, his jaw ticking.

"You're gonna let me say yes," he said, only half-questioningly, face clear of emotion as he wasn't sure this was really happening.

Inhaling deeply, he shook his head ever-so-slightly. "No… That's the thing… It's not on me to _let_ you do anything." He glanced at him, brows knotted and mouth pursed.

Sam knew it was hard for him to admit, to _accept_.

"You're a grown—" He paused, adding, " _overgrown_ man… If this is what you want, I'll back your play."

He straightened his back before sighing, body slumping with him. "That's the last thing I ever thought you'd say."

Staring at the ground, Dean said, "Might be," with some amusement.

Sam scoffed under his breath. "Chloe talk to you?"

His mouth curled into a half-smile. "Her… and Bobby." He shrugged his shoulders. "They were both trying to drill it into me, but…" He snorted, smirking sarcastically. "You know me… Stubborn as all hell."

He grinned, nodding. "Yeah…"

"I'm not gonna lie to you though." His stared thin-eyed out into the distance. "Goes against every fiber I got."

Sam looked to him, brows still furrowed.

"Truth is… that watchin' out for you…" He glanced at him before turning his eyes away once more, having a hard time dealing with the emotion of the situation, "it's kinda been my job, y'know?" Swallowing tightly, he pursed his lips, passing another quick glance at him. "Been more than that, it's… It's kinda _who I am_ … I mean, you're not a kid any more, Sam. And I can't keep treatin' you like one…" He nodded. "Maybe I gotta grow up a little too." His head ducked low.

" _Dean…_ you _have_." He stared at him, half-smiling. "Who you _are…_ it isn't _just_ my brother. I-I mean you're… You're _Dean Winchester_ … Bad-ass hunter, y'know?" He grinned. "And a husband— A _great_ husband to the best sister-in-law I could ask for…" He shook his head. "I mean, I always figured if you got married her name would be Candy or Cherry and she'd scam you for every stolen dime you had…"

Dean snorted, face breaking out in a grin as he shook his head.

"But you're already starting your life… _without_ me." He shook his head when Dean meant to interrupt. "I'm not bitter. I'm not even _upset_." He stared at him searchingly. "You guys need each other and… I couldn't always be the little brother, following at your heels, wanting to be as cool as you and living in your shadow." He smiled sadly. "I _haven't_ been him for a long time, but… That doesn't mean I won't still need you o-or want to be part of your life. It just… It means that I'm old enough to take care of myself and you… You've got your own family to protect."

Swallowing thickly, he nodded, eyes set on the dirt once more where he kicked at it. They let the silence sink in for a minute; let their words and their understanding fill in the blanks.

But finally, Dean inhaled sharply, his brows raised high and said, "I dunno if we've got a snowball's chance… But… I do know that if anybody can do it… it's _you_."

Sam looked down and then back up at him, nodding. " _Thank you_."

"So if this is what you want…" He looked up, brows furrowed questioningly. "Is this _really_ what you want?"

He thought about it, looked away, and sighed, "I let him out." Shaking his head, he felt the finality of the situation, his decision coming honestly. "I gotta put him back in."

Dean stared at him a long moment before finally saying, "Okay," and looking back out on the expanse of lined up old and new junker cars, never to drive or be driven again. He pursed his lips, worry and fear fighting for dominance, but he let neither show, spoke of neither. "That's it then." He took a long drag from his beer, the decision made.

Together, in silence, they drank their beers and accepted that this was just how it had to be.

…

"Just how much demon blood are we _talking?_ " Chloe wondered, looking from Dean to Sam to Cas.

The angel frowned, his eyes darting to the Winchester brothers. "A _lot_."

Dean frowned. "Look, you don't hafta come along for that. It's gonna be… _messy._ "

"And by _messy_ you mean _bloody_ …" She rolled her eyes. "Look, I've dealt with blood before. Copious amounts. Although I _will_ probably sit out the Sam _drinking_ it process…" She pursed her lips, lifting an apologetic shoulder at her brother-in-law, who smiled back understandingly.

"So you wanna hang around while we track down demons and fill up buckets with their blood?" Dean pursed his lips. "Is there anything you _won't_ do?"

Her brow quirked. "I don't like killing spiders…"

He snorted, shaking his head. "You're a real piece, y'know that?"

She grinned. "Thank you." She looked to Cas and Sam. "So how do we track down these demons?"

"Finding them is pretty easy… especially with so many getting cocky lately," Dean said, frowning. "It's the trapping them part that gets a little tricky."

Nodding, she sighed. "Okay, so… let's go catch us Sam's lunch, dinner and dessert."

He cracked a sarcastic smile back at her and she simply winked in return.

Hours later, they had demons strung up from the rafters of an old, abandoned, cement building, hands bound and hanging toward the ground, crimson blood dribbling from open cuts and their torn jugulars, filling the large metal buckets below. Chloe watched as Sam wiped down the demon killing knife and Cas screwed the top on a 4L milk jug filled with blood. Standing to the side, Dean looked from the bodies and the mess to her, his face a mask of stone. She walked toward him, not liking how he covered up his emotions over the situation. She was well aware of Sam's former blood addiction, it was one of the reasons the apocalypse was upon them – his trust in the wrong, well, _demon_.

Wrapping her arms around Dean's waist, she tilted her chin against his chest. Her mouth was parted, air sucked between her lips; she didn't like the stench of death and coppery blood that filled her nostrils when she breathed through her nose. "You all right?" she asked him, breaking the long silence that had permeated them all since they'd tracked down the three demons behind her.

His lips pursed, jaw ticking, and instead of answering, he leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers, taking comfort, if only for a moment, in her presence.

It was back to business minutes later when the last jug was filled with demon blood and they made their way out of the dark and dingy building into the sunlight where the Impala sat gleaming. Chloe walked ahead, searching for a bottle of water she left in her purse to wash off what stained her hands.

While Sam and Cas carried the blood, packing it in the trunk, Dean watched from a far, a scowl tugging at his mouth. He wiped at his face, drew his hand back and found it stained with leftover blood. He rubbed it away vigorously before detouring toward Bobby at his van. When the older man looked up from his many newspapers, Dean scoffed, shaking his head. "Still can't get used to you at eye-level."

Bobby screwed up his face in a sarcastic grin. "So? Was I right?"

"As always, Yoda. Two stunned demons inside, just like you said." His lips pursed.

"Didja get it?"

He glanced back at the Impala. "Yeah, all the Go-Juice Sammy can drink."

Bobby turned to see where he was looking, spotting Cas and Sam as they closed the trunk, wiping leftover blood from their hands. Looking back at Dean, he asked, "You okay?"

His brows lifting quick. "Not really. Whaddya got?" He turned the subject, looking down at the newspaper Bobby had been perusing just prior to his interruption.

"Not much," he sighed. "These look like omens to you?" He grabbed up a paper to show him.

Taking it, Dean snapped it open.

"Cyclone in Florida, temperature drop in Detroit, wildfires in L.A…."

"Wait, what about Detroit?" Dean interrupted, brows furrowed.

"Temp's dropped about twenty degrees but only in a five-block radius of downtown mo-town."

He frowned. "That's the one." Raising his head, he tossed the paper away knowingly. "Devil's in Detroit." With a snap of his lips, he tucked his hands away in the pockets of his leather jacket.

"Really?" Bobby asked, surprised. "Far as _foreboding_ goes, it's a little light in the loafers." He cocked a brow, eyes thinned. "Ya sure?"

Dean looked back at his brother who stood uncomfortably by the trunk of the car, wringing out his hands of the water Chloe had poured across them to get rid of the blood.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he said, knowingly.

…

They were on the road awhile later en route to Detroit, Michigan. Night had fallen and the roads were slick with rain. The headlights of Bobby's van bounced off the trunk of Dean's car. Sam sat thoughtfully in the passenger seat, staring out the window while Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel tight. The snoring in the back had his eyes darting and he found Castiel fast asleep, his head on an equally asleep Chloe's shoulder.

"Aww, ain't he a little angel?" he mocked sarcastically.

Sam looked back and then frowned. "Angel's don't sleep."

Brows raised as that nugget of information sunk in, Dean looked back at him once more. Peacefully, Cas leaned into Chloe, completely asleep and unaware of the jostling of the car. Dean's gaze bounced from the soundly sleeping Chloe to their much more human friend.

Eyes back on the road, he shook his head. "I got a bad feeling about this…"

Sam nodded, his mouth curling with a sarcastic and agreeable smile. "Well you'd be nuts to have a good feeling about it."

He tossed his head back, brows furrowed. "You know what I mean… I mean, _Detroit_ … He always said he'd jump your bones in Detroit. _Here we are_."

"Here we are," Sam repeated simply.

"Maybe this is him rollin' out the red carpet, y'know? I mean, maybe he knows something we don't."

"Dean," he laughed, "I'm sure he knows a _buttload_ we don't…" He turned to look at him. "But you gotta hope he doesn't know about the rings." Scoffing, he sighed and licked his lips. "Hey… Um…" He swallowed thickly. "On the subject, there's something I gotta talk to you about…"

"What?"

Brows lifted, he said, "This things goes our way and I… Triple Lindy into that box…"

Dean took his eyes off the road to look at him questioningly.

Sam stared. "You _know_ I'm not comin' back…?"

Dean stared down a moment and then turned his eyes back to the road. "Yeah, I'm aware."

"So you gotta promise me something."

Brows knotted, he turned back to him. "Okay… Yeah. Anything."

His expression lightened, defeat, acceptance written across his fallen eyes. "You gotta promise not to try and bring me back."

" _What?_ " He stared at him in disbelief.

Sam stared at him seriously.

" _No_ , I didn't sign up for that."

" _Dean_ …" he sighed, turning back to glare out the front window.

"Your hell is gonna make my tour look like _Graceland_ ," he told him with honest harshness. "You want me to just sit by and do nothing?"

"Once the cage is shut, you _can't_ go poking at it, Dean. It's too risky!"

"No-no-no-no. As if I'm just gonna let you _rot_ in there," he spat, glaring at him.

"Yeah, _you are_. You don't have a choice."

"You can't ask me to do this."

"I'm sorry, Dean, you _have_ to."

He stared at him a long moment before finally shaking his head, eyes narrowed. "So then what am I supposed to do?"

Sam stared at him before finally saying, "You take Chloe and you get out of this life…"

Dean's jaw ticked.

Ignoring it, he continued, "You pray to God that whatever's out there leaves you two alone after this ends. You-You have barbecues and you have kids that I would be _proud_ to call my nieces and nephews and you go live some _normal,_ _apple-pie_ life, Dean." His eyes bore into him seriously. "Promise me!" he demanded.

He stared at him stubbornly, unwilling to make that sacrifice, but Sam's expression met his gaze and he felt himself falter. Finally, he looked away, staring stonily out the window, his eyes bouncing only once to the rearview mirror, to his wife, to the only family he might have left soon.

…

Bobby lifted a pair of binoculars, zeroing in on the window above on an apartment building across the road. In the window stood a man, staring blankly out at the road, his eyes a telling black. Walking down the alley, he met up with Dean, Sam, Cas and Chloe. "Demons," he told them, his breath coming in thick pants. He'd had to take a jog around the block and search out the bastards and he'd been off his feet so long he felt he'd run a marathon. "At least two dozen of 'em." Looking behind him, he said, "You were right, somethin's up."

"More than something," Dean argued, frowning. "He's here, I know it."

Bobby stared at him, his face pensive.

Boots clomping, Dean walked past them and toward the trunk of the car, dragging his keys out of his pocket.

Sam stepped forward, taking a deep breath and letting it out, his forehead wrinkled.

Chloe stared up at him and finally reached out, taking and squeezing his hand.

He smiled down at her, but his mouth trembled with the effort. Lifting his head, he looked to Bobby, who stared at him a moment before his head fell. As he walked forward, Chloe let go of Sam's hand and stepped back, walking around to Cas, to give them their moment.

Bobby looked around at the ground as if searching for the right words before finally looking up into Sam's face. With thick emotion layering his gruff voice, he said, "I'll see ya around, Kid."

Nodding, Sam's eyes burned. "See ya around," he said heavily.

Fear, worry, and fatherly loved spread across Bobby's face before he reached out and hugged Sam tight.

Wrapping his arms around the older man, he clapped his back and closed his eyes.

Drawing back, his chest heaving with shuddering breaths, Bobby told him, "He gets in… you fight him tooth an' nail, ya understand?"

Brows furrowed, Sam nodded.

"Keep swingin'… Don't give an inch."

"Yes, sir," he replied respectfully.

Clapping his shoulder one last time, Bobby took a step back, his head bowed.

As Sam wiped at his face, he turned to see Cas staring at him sadly. He walked toward him, his hand out for the angel to shake. "Take care of these guys, hey?"

Cas cocked his head to one side, frowning. "It's not possible."

Scoffing under his breath, his eyes closed as he laughed slightly. "Then _humor_ me." He shook Cas' hand.

" _Oh…_ " He shook his head understandingly. "I'm supposed to lie."

Looking away, Sam found himself smiling.

Trying his best, Cas forced an awkward smile. "Uh… _Sure_ … We'll be fine."

"Just-Just… _stop_ , okay?" He smiled.

Slowly, Cas' smile gave way and he glanced at Dean and then Chloe, shrugging as if to apologize.

She smiled back. "We're gonna work on that tact problem of yours," she told him.

With a shake of his head, Sam turned toward her. "Short-lived brother-sister bonding, huh?"

Her mouth quirked on one side. "Well, at least you left an impression."

He chuckled under his breath. "Not sure it was a good one."

Smiling softly, she shook her head. "Trust me… I see only good in you, Sam Winchester."

He stared at her a long moment before finally reaching out and hugging her tight. Squeezing her close, he sighed against her shoulder. "Your promise?"

Arms tight around his back, she gripped his coat in her fisted hands and whispered thickly, "I'll never forget it."

He closed his eyes to stop the burn. "He's gonna be hard to deal with. H-He's stubborn an-and he can be a real ass sometimes. He-He doesn't like to talk and he just—He…"

She laughed, nodding. "I know."

"One more promise, okay?"

"Sure."

"Just, uh… Just let him take care of you too, okay?" Drawing back, he stared down at her, brow knotted with concern. "He's better at it than you'd think."

Wiping her eyes, she nodded. "Okay."

He smiled at her, squeezing her hand one last time before he turned toward his brother and with a heavy sigh, walked toward him.

Standing next to the Impala still, Dean had his hand on the open trunk door. Sam stared down at the four jugs of demon blood, his stomach twisting.

"You mind not watching this?" he asked, refusing to look directly at his brother.

Without a word, Dean walked away, his face screwed up, whether it was hurt or regret, Sam didn't know. But when he looked up, Dean was with Chloe, his back to him, and she was soothing him in a way only she could.

Reaching inside the trunk, Sam dragged out a jug of blood, the sticky handle making his body clench. With resolve, he tipped it back, closed his eyes, and reassured himself that it was for the best.

…

"He still on jug number one?" Dean asked, staring down at her. His hands were spread across her hips, holding tight, thumbs absently rubbing back and forth across her hip bones.

"Two," she replied, biting her lower lip. "How're you holding up?"

He smiled sarcastically. "Fantastic."

"Dean…" she sighed.

He looked away, jaw ticking. "My brother's drinkin' demon blood and in a few minutes we're gonna try and stop the devil from annihilating the world… by sacrificing Sammy." He pursed his lips, nodding. "Best day of my life."

"Right, what could be better?" She cocked a brow as he glanced back at her. "Maybe castration. Could be high on the list. Ooh, or evisceration; I hear that's all kinds of fun."

His eyes narrowed. "Thank you, Cheering Section, I'm feeling all better now."

She snorted. "I'm not trying to make you feel better, Dean. Because I _can't_. There is nothing I can say or do that will make this easier…" She shook her head, sighing. "I'm just trying to be here for you. I'm just—"

"I know…" he interrupted. He gathered her close, wrapping his arms around her. "Can you do it without talking or arguing, though?"

She chuckled slightly, but her arms encircled him and she rested her head against his chest. "Y'know, that won't always work. I will—"

"Shhh…" He rested his chin on her head and closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of her hair and focusing on it rather than the putrid smell of the alley or the sounds of his brother guzzling four 4L's of blood in the background.

…

_The impala, of course, has all the things other cars have... And a few things they don't. But none of that stuff's important. This is the stuff that's important…_

_The army man that Sam crammed in the ashtray - it's still stuck there. The legos that Dean shoved into the vents - to this day, heat comes on and they can hear 'em rattle. These are the things that make the car theirs - really theirs. Even when Dean rebuilt her from the ground up, he made sure all these little things stayed, 'cause it's the blemishes that make her beautiful._

_The devil doesn't know or care what kind of car the boys drive._

…

Finally, Sam slammed the trunk closed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Breathing out a heavy sigh, he started walking. "Okay… let's go."

Dean watched him, jaw tensed. "Stay here," he told Chloe, passing her toward Bobby. He looked at the older man and once at Cas before following Sam out into the street.

Arms lifted high above his head, Sam yelled, "All right!" while staring up at the apartment they'd been scoping out. "We're here ya sonsabitches! Come and get it!"

The apartment door below opened and out walked two men in suits.

"Hey guys," Dean greeted, eyes narrowed. "Is your father home?"

Five minutes later, they were being shoved through the apartment door to where Lucifer was waiting.

Standing at the window, staring up at the sky, stood a completely at ease devil, his skin peeling away with decay. "Hey guys," he said in absent greeting. "So nice of you to drop in."

Sneering, Sam took deep breaths, trying to stay calm, and stared darkly.

Dean stared rather wide-eyed.

Blowing out a long breath against the window, he watched as it chilled, a screen of ice crystallizing before him. "Sorry if it's a little chilly," he muttered, reaching forward to draw in the icy leftovers with his finger; creating a pitchfork, of all things. "Most people think I burn hot… it's actually quite the opposite."

"Well, I'll alert the media," Dean replied snarkily.

Turning around with deadly calm, Lucifer stared at him a moment before stepping forward. Clapping his hands, he said, "Help me understand something, guys. I mean, stomping through my front door's… a tad suicidal, doncha think?"

Dean swallowed tightly, eyes falling to the ground.

"We're not here to _fight_ you," Sam growled.

Lucifer turned to look at him, feigning interest. "No? Then why are you?"

"I wanna say yes."

He stared, for the first time sounding surprised when he asked, "Excuse me?"

Dean glared at him, his jaw clenched tight. With a sigh, he looked away.

Taking a deep breath, Sam closed his eyes, and as a boom hit the room behind him a demon's head shone brilliantly with light before he collapsed to the ground, dead. And beside him, following just a second later, was the second demon that had abrasively escorted them upstairs. He stared at Lucifer pointedly.

Eyes wide, Dean looked from his brother to the devil.

"Chocked full of Ovaltine, are we?" Lucifer mocked.

"You heard me…" He sneered, " _Yes!_ "

"You're serious…"

Eyes narrowed, he glanced at Dean and then back. Taking a deep breath, he shuffled his feet. "Look… Judgment Day is a run-away train, we _get it_ now… We just want off."

"Meaning?"

A breath stuttered out. "Deal of the century."

He crossed his arms, lifting a hand, his finger crossing his lips in thought.

"I give you a free ride, but when it's all over – _I_ live, _he_ lives, you bring our parents back."

"Okay, can we please _drop_ the tela-novella?" he asked, lifting his chin and turning to stare at him, no longer feigning the act of listening. "I know you have the rings, Sam."

Dean stared, wide-eyed, worried.

Eyes narrowed, bluffing, Sam shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Stroking his chin, Lucifer turned his eyes upward and rolled his hand through the air. "The Horsemen rings…" He turned his eyes toward him knowingly. "The magic _keys_ to my _cage_ …" He walked forward, just before and between the two brothers. "Ring a bell?"

Sam sighed, his shoulders lifting high and then drooping.

Passing through them, he sighed, "Come on, Sam…"

Dean's eyes fell closed, a sigh of defeat escaping him.

"I've never lied to you," Lucifer continued. "You could at least pay me the same _respect_." He stopped, turning to look back at him, arms held out in askance.

They turned to look back at him.

"It's okay, I'm not mad," he said, smiling at Dean before he returned his attention to Sam. "A wrestling match inside your _noggin_. I like the idea." He shuffled his hands in front of him. "Just you and me, one round, no tricks… You win," He paused, head cocked, mouth turned down in a frown, "You jump in the hole. I win…" He grinned. "Well, then _I win_."

Sam glanced at his brother, his feet moving to and fro.

"Whattya say, Sam? A fiddle of gold against your soul says I'm better than _y-ooou_."

"So he knows. Doesn't change anything."

" _Sam_ ," Dean argued.

"We don't have any other choice."

" _No_."

Shuffling his feet until he felt they were stable and he was ready, he whispered harshly at Lucifer, " _Yes!_ "

The devil stared at him before arching his head back and closing his eyes. Yellow light filled the room, so bright the two brothers had to shield their eyes. Outside the apartment building, Cas and Bobby glanced at each other before returning to staring at the light shining out of the windows. Stepping forward, Chloe stared up, her brows furrowed, chewing her lip with worry.

As the light faded away inside, Dean lifted his head, eyes darting, only to find both Lucifer's and Sam's bodies laid out on the floor. Staring at his brother, he dragged the ring-key out of his pocket and threw it, his hand still reaching as it stuck to the wall. In a thick voice, he began the incantation to open Lucifer's cage. When he finished, the wall cracked, a hole forming as if it were being punched by a massive fist. Air began whipping around like an angry wind, tearing away paint and plaster, snapping boards that disappeared into the black abyss of the hole. As more and more of the wall began to disappear, Dean turned to see Sam struggling to stand.

"Sammy!" he yelled, hurrying toward him.

"Dean!"

"Sammy!" He reached for his arm, trying to help him up.

Groaning, Sam arched his back, shouting over the rushing wind around them, "Ugh! I can feel him!" Eyes screwed up, he pulled his arm back from Dean and curled up into himself, bent painfully on the floor.

Dean moved in front of him, dragging him up and as they stood before the mess of the cage door, he stared up at his brother. "Go now, Sammy!"

Sam gripped his elbow, staring forward.

" _Now!_ "

Letting him go, Sam walked toward the door, staring deep into its dark recesses. Blowing out a heavy breath, his shoulders heaving, his face screwed up with effort, he suddenly relaxed, his expression dying away. With a smirk, he turned around to look at Dean, lifting his arms out in a what-can-you-do fashion. He pursed his lips, cocking his head in faux-apology. "I was just messing with you," he said, nodding, his hands clasped in front of him.

Dean stared at him, eyes narrowed.

"Sammy's long gone," Lucifer told him darkly before turning around and chanting the incantation that would close the door to his cage. And as the wall righted itself, boards, paint and insulation back in place, he walked forward to pluck the rings from where they were stuck. Holding them before him, he stared down at them with furrowed brows and walked back toward Dean. Brow wrinkled, he said, "I told you… This would always happen in Detroit."

Dean felt his chest ache with that knowledge, his breath becoming labored in emotion.

Lucifer disappeared with no more said, taking the brother Dean already missed with him.

Eyes filled with tears, Dean looked around the now empty room, his fingers threading through his hair as he realized just how much this all went south and how fucked they all truly were.

…

In a dim room, inside an old apartment, Lucifer walked through a circle of demons, stretching and fisting his hands, hearing them crack with power. Rolling his shoulder, he felt his vessel's strong body ripple. "Sam…" he whispered, sighing. "Come on… I can feel you. Scratching away in there…" He turned, staring at a mirror with spiderweb cracks across it. "Look…" He walked toward it, staring at his reflection, that of a young man. "I'll take the gag off, okay?" As he paused in front of the mirror, he shook his head. "You got me all wrong, Kiddo."

The real Sam snarled behind the glass, his shoulders heaving, his nostrils flaring.

"I'm not the bad guy here."

"I'm gonna rip you apart from the inside out," Sam whispered thickly. "D'you understand me?"

Wide, unworried eyes stared back. He frowned, sighing, looking away as if sad. "Such anger… _Young Skywalker_ ," he mocked.

Sam let out a rage-filled, shuddering breath.

Lucifer chuckled, mouth twitching. "Who're you really angry with?" he asked. " _Me?_ Or that face in the mirror?" He quirked his brows questioningly.

"I'm sure this is all a big joke to you, huh?"

"Not at all. I've been waiting for you… for a long… _long_ time."

Stretching his shoulder, he cocked his head, mouth curled in a snarl.

"Come on, Sam. You have to admit… You can _feel it_ …"

Brows furrowed, he shook his head. " _What?_ "

"The _exhilaration_. And you know why that is?" His brows lifted. "Because we're two halves made whole. M. F. E. O." His mouth quirked in a smile. " _Literally._ "

"This feels pretty damn far from good."

"I'm inside your grapefruit, Sam," Lucifer replied, tapping his temple. "You can't lie to me… I see it all… How _odd_ you always felt. How…" His eyes fell as if in understanding, "out of place in that… _family_ of yours." He stared at him. "And why shouldn't you have?"

Sam's mouth trembled, his brows knotted.

"They were foster care, _at best_." He stared at him imploringly, smiling slightly. " _I'm_ your real family."

He shook his head. "No, that's not true."

"It is," he said, nodding simply. "And I know you know it." His eyes bored into him. "All those times you ran away, you weren't running from them." He cocked his head knowingly. "You were running towards me."

Sam looked away, shaking his head, refusing to believe it.

He sighed, gaze falling. "This doesn't have to be a bad thing, you know?"

He scoffed.

"I let Dean live. Didn't I? I _want_ him to live. Him and that sister-in-law you love so much." He stared at him searchingly. "They'll have those nieces and nephews you wanted." He smiled slightly, offering, "And I'll bring your folks back, too." Pausing, he stared at him. "I _want_ you to be happy." He lifted his chin convincingly. "Sam."

"I don't _want… anything_ from you!" he growled.

He scoffed. "Really?" He turned his head. "Not even a little payback?"

His brows furrowed deeply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look closely…" He turned his head toward the unmoving, unresponsive circle of demons. "None of these _little devils_ look familiar to you?" He returned to staring at Sam, waiting for understanding to dawn, a smug smirk tweaking his mouth.

Sam's face cleared with knowing. "That's Mr. Bensman… one of my grade-school teachers…"

Lucifer took a deep breath, turning. "And that's your friend, Doug, from that time in East Lansing. And Rachel… your prom date." He turned back to him, smirking. Lifting his arms out, he said, "Sam Winchester, _this_ is your life… Azazel's gang. Watching you since you were a rug-rat." He sighed. "Chucking you around like a dog, on a _leash_. I know how you feel about that. Me too."

Sam's body vibrated with anger, his chest and shoulders heaving as he glared out, staring at these people, these _demons_.

"So whatta you say you and I blow off a little steam?" Lucifer suggested.


	39. Chapter Thirty-Eight

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXXVIII**.

Dean walked out of the building feeling like he'd just pushed the big red button to end the world, and his brother was its first casualty.

He stepped into the street and felt a light rain. Looking up, he blinked as warm drops fled into his eyes and drenched his shoulders. Perfect. Like things couldn't get worse, a downpour was coming. Footsteps alerted him to the others approaching. They didn't ask; he figured his expression said enough. When he looked at Chloe, her face fell, her eyes round with disbelief. He reached for her, his hand fisting the shoulder of her coat and dragging her into him. Wrapped close, she rested her face against his chest and just sighed. Their last chance had succumbed to the devil and the world was going to shit. Eyes falling closed, his chin fell to the top of her head as he let that sink in.

It was few minutes before they heard the ruckus; people were crowding the streets, staring at the televisions down the way, blaring with the recent news.

Sighing, he drew back, took Chloe's hand and started walking.

TV's were lined up in a store window, stacked, all showing the same. Sirens and cars were stuck behind a fallen bridge; the destruction obvious. " _Reports are flooding in,_ " a reporter said, " _7.6 quake in Portland, 8.1 in Boston, 4 in Hong Kong, Berlin, and Iran. U.S.G.S has no explanation_ …"

Shaking her head, Chloe backed away, reaching into her pocket for her phone. "I have to call Lois," she told him.

He nodded understandingly, but watched her still as she stepped a few feet away from the group. Finger plugged in her opposite ear, she asked worriedly, "Lo? I-I know… I'm watching the same thing…" Face falling, she shook her head. "No… I… I don't know. Just… We're working on it, okay?" She chewed her lip, sighing. "Are you with Clark?" She nodded. "Good. Just… Just stay together."

Pacing, Cas turned to Dean and Bobby. "It's starting."

Turning away from her, he cocked a brow at Cas, scoffing, "Yeah, ya think, Genius?"

Not looking back, he simply replied, "You don't have to be mean." Frowning, he stared out into the wet street.

"So what do we do now?" he asked, following after him.

Lips pursed, Cas shook his head. "I suggest we imbibe… _copious_ amounts of alcohol… just wait for the inevitable blast wave."

"Yes, well," he nodded, "Thank you, Bukowski. I-I mean, how do we _stop_ it?"

Turning, Cas stared at him, eyes narrowing. "We _don't_."

Dean stared at him, brows furrowed, blinking.

Chloe returned, reaching for Dean's hand, her heart sinking at the news.

"There's _nothing?_ No more Plan B's up the sleeve?" she wondered, looking from face to face.

"Lucifer will meet Michael on the chosen field…" Eyes widening with fear, Cas added, "And the battle of Armageddon begins."

Jaw clenched, Dean's hand squeezed Chloe's tight. "Okay, well, where's this chosen field?"

Shaking his head, he sighed, "I don't know."

"Well there's gotta be _something_ that we can do!" he bit out.

Eyes turned up sadly, he looked back at him. "I'm sorry, Dean. This is over."

Behind them, Bobby walked along the sidewalk, staring at the many screens showing the destruction world-wide.

"You listen to me, you gutless sissy—"

Cas shook his head, looking down.

"We are _not_ giving up!"

Bobby came up behind him and Dean turned toward him. "Bobby," he asked, wanting his help in convincing Cas, only to pause at the look on the older man's face. " _Bobby?_ "

Shock marred Bobby's face as he slowly lifted his defeated eyes to Dean's, filled with tears. "There was… _never_ much hope to begin with," he said, shaking his head.

Dean's gaze narrowed.

Cas frowned understandingly.

"I don't know what else to do," Bobby admitted.

Eyes wet with tears, Dean's eyes fell and he turned to look at Castiel, who looked up sorrowfully at him. Nodding, realizing it was on him again, he swallowed thickly, "Chloe?"

She nodded, smiling reassuringly. "This is one thing I won't argue with you on," she said, lifting her chin. "We die fighting."

He stared at her, his jaw ticking. And together, they walked away, to do whatever it was they could.

…

Sitting on cement stairs, Lucifer looked around at the bloody massacre of bodies that laid around him, his blood-stained hands on his knees. Turning, he looked to the mirror where a scared and obviously worried Sam stared back at him.

Sam let out a thick breath, his brow wrinkled.

"So?" he asked. "Are we having fun yet?"

Inhaling deeply, he looked away, only to return his gaze to Lucifer, not bothering to hide his fear at what he had a hand in.

…

Chuck Shurley sat in his home, still wearing that same ratty bathrobe, typing at his laptop the story of Sam and Dean Winchester, the brothers that started, fought and quite possibly lost the apocalypse. A bottle of whiskey, half-empty, with a glass filled next to his hand, sat on his desk. As the phone rang, he reached for it, lifting it to his ear. "Mistress Magda?" he asked in greeting.

"Um, _no_ , Chuck," Dean Winchester replied.

"Oh, uh, _Dean_ …" Turning back in his seat, he righted his bathrobe and sat up straighter. "Uh, wow, I-I didn't know that you'd call."

"Who's Mistress Magda?" he drawled.

"Nothing. She's a, uh, a— Just a, uh..." He blew out a sigh. "A close friend."

"Yeah, I'll bet, _real_ close," he scoffed. "What ever happened to _Becky_?"

"Yeah, it didn't work out. I had too much respect for her." He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Boy, you really got a whole virgin/hooker thing going on, don't you?"

He rolled his eyes irritably. "Said the philanderer who couldn't seal the deal with his girlfriend until she was his wife," he mocked back.

Dean pursed his lips.

"How is Mrs. Winchester, anyway?"

"Holding it together pretty good for someone who knows the world is ending," he muttered on a sigh.

"Yeah," He glanced at the computer, his eyes falling then, "I'm just working on the pages now."

"So you know Sam said yes…" he sighed.

Chuck frowned. "Yeah, I-I saw it."

"You happen to see where the title fight goes down?" he wondered hopefully.

He sighed heavily. "The angels are keeping it top secret – very hush, hush."

Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Crap."

"But I saw it anyway," he admitted. Grinning, he leaned back in his chair. "Perks of being a prophet…" Sobering, he told him, "It's, uh, tomorrow…" He nodded. "High noon. Place called Stull Cemetery."

"Stull ceme—" he muttered to himself, pausing. His face screwed up in a frown. "Wait, I know that. That's—That's an old boneyard outside of Lawrence." His brows furrowed. "Why Lawrence?"

"I don't know..." His eyes widened as he stared down at the screen. "It all has to end where it started, I guess."

"All right, Chuck, look… You know of any way to short-circuit this thing?"

"Besides the rings? No." He looked up, face falling. "Sorry."

"Well, do you have any idea what's gonna happen next?"

"I-I wish that I did."

Dean threw his head back, eyes falling closed in defeat.

"But I-I just—I honestly don't know yet."

Sighing, he bowed his head. "All right. Thanks, Chuck." Hanging up, he stuffed his phone away and turned to look at Chloe.

"Well?"

Frowning, he shook his head. "Looks like we're heading back to Kansas."

Nodding, she plucked her seatbelt down and stuck it into place. "There's no place like home…" she murmured.

He smiled at her thankfully, feeling a rush of gratitude toward her.

With a roar of the engine, they were off once more.

…

They had to make a stop first, pulling in near Bobby's old van to get more supplies. "And this is supposed to help us how?" she wondered, looking at the extra artillery.

"Honestly?" He smiled sarcastically. "It probably won't." Leaning back against the car, he stared at her. "But if I go down and… I probably will… I want you to have as much ammo on hand as you can get."

Walking forward, she stepped in between the part of his legs. "You think I'm going to let you do this alone?" Brow cocked, she frowned. "That I'll just hide out in some corner while you fight for our last chance?"

His jaw twitched. "I'm not _expecting_ you to… I'm _asking_ you." Reaching up, he tucked her hair behind her ear, stroking her neck and squeezing the nape before dragging her forward until their foreheads met. Closing his eyes, he sighed. "You're all I got left. And if I can't get through to him…"

Chloe cupped his face, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. "You're asking me to let you die…"

"I'm asking you to live even if I can't…" he said thickly, opening his eyes to stare at her searchingly. "For as long as this world's still here."

Her eyes burned with tears.

His mouth twitched with a sad smile and he lifted his hand up to swipe a tear away from her cheek. " _Please_ , Chloe…"

Mouth trembling, she nodded. "Okay," she whispered brokenly.

Sighing in relief, he drew her down for a kiss, meeting her mouth hurriedly; panicked, needy slants of their lips were broken by desperate pants for breath and the warm salt of mixed tears. Burying a hand in her hair, he hugged her close, pressing his face into her hair as she clung to him, sniffling but refusing to sob.

After a few minutes, they parted, wiping quickly at their faces. Dean stood forward, clearing his throat as he closed the door on the trunk before moving around the car.

Down the alley, Bobby and Cas appeared, walking toward them.

"You goin' some place?" Bobby asked.

At the door, hand on the handle, Dean looked back at him, his brows furrowed. He stared at Cas and then returned to looking at the car.

"You're gonna do somethin' _stupid_ … Ya got that look," Bobby drawled.

Turning, he admitted, "I'm gonna go talk to Sam."

Staring, he shook his head. "Ya just don't give up."

"It's _Sam!_ " he yelled.

"If you couldn't reach him here, you're certainly not gonna reach him on the battlefield," Cas argued.

"Chloe," Bobby hollered across to her. "You wanna talk some sense inta your damn husband!"

She sighed, shaking her head. "If the world is going to end anyway, why not go out doing what we know is _right?_ "

"By gettin' yerselves _killed?_ "

"Better to die trying," Dean argued.

"I just want you to understand," Cas sighed, "The _only_ thing that you are going to see out there is _Michael… killing_ your brother…"

Swallowing thickly, he shook his head. "Well then I ain't gonna let him die alone."

Cas and Bobby stared back at him, unable to say any more.

Dean turned, pulling the door open.

On the other side, Chloe nodded to the two men before sliding into the passenger seat next to her husband.

The Impala rumbled to life and Dean looked over at her. "You're sure?"

Reaching out, she gripped his hand. "Let's go."

He squeezed her hand back and put the car into drive, his foot pushing down on the accelerator. There was no certainty they'd accomplish anything, but at least they would try.

…

Stull Cemetery was overgrown with weeds, the No Trespassing sign hung crookedly off the old, rusted gates. A wind blew heavy, making trees and dead plants dance before it. The sky was clouded over, thick with grey. As a crow flew overhead, cawing, Lucifer looked up to watch its ascent, his eyes narrowed as he waited for his adversary, his brother, _Michael_.

A flapping noise sounded behind him and his brows furrowed as he turned, seeing Michael embodied in the young visage of Adam Milligan, the bastard son of John Winchester. Staring back stoically, Michael waited.

"It's good to see you, Michael," Lucifer told him.

His head cocked ever-so-slightly. "You too… It's been too long."

"Can you believe it's finally here?" He shifted his feet.

Walking forward, he said honestly, "No. Not really." Coming to a stop ten feet away from him, he sighed. "Are you ready?"

Taking a deep breath, he said, "As I'll ever be." Letting out his sigh, he admitted, "Part of me wishes we didn't have to do this."

"Yeah... Me too."

Lucifer stepped toward him. "Then why are we?"

"Oh, you know why…" He glared. "I have no choice after what you did."

"What I _did?_ " His brows fell heavy over his eyes. "What if it's not my fault?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, unconvinced.

"Think about it." He started walking toward him, motioning his hand to prove his point. "Dad made everything. Which _means_ he made me who I am."

Michael looked away, frowning.

"God _wanted_ the devil."

He looked back at him, unmoved. "So?"

"So _why?_ Why make us fight? I just can't figure out the point."

He stared at him wonderingly. "What's _your_ point?"

Lucifer lifted his chin. "We're going to kill each other. And for _what?_ One of dad's tests. And we don't even know the answer." He stared at him searchingly. "We're brothers... Let's just walk off the chessboard."

Michael looked away, turning, considering the option. Licking his lips, he turned back, resolved. "I'm sorry. I-I can't do that… I'm a _good_ son and I have my orders."

"But you don't have to follow them."

"What? You think I'm gonna _rebel?"_

He sighed, setting his chin.

" _Now?_ " He shook his head. "I'm not like you!"

"Please, Michael…"

"You haven't changed _a bit_ , Little Brother. Always blaming everybody but yourself." Angrily, he told him, "We were together. We were happy. But you betrayed us – all of us – and you made our father leave."

"Nobody makes dad do anything. He is doing this _to us_."

Staring at him, Michael said simply, "You're a _monster_ , Lucifer."

Lucifer bowed his head, hurt showing.

"And I have to kill you."

"If that's the way it's got to be…" His lip curled in a sneer, eyes cutting toward his brother darkly. "Then I'd like to see you try."

Michael stared back, unmoved, and together they began to circle each other, ready and willing to fight to the death. Finally, they stopped, and Lucifer's head cocked, his brows furrowed.

But then, a rumble in the distance, and they turned to look.

Popping a tape in, Dean turned up the volume on the car stereo and let it sing for him. " _Gunter, glieben, glauchen, globen! All right! I got something to say! Hey it's better to burn out! Yeah! Than fade awa-a-a-y all right oh!_ "

Jaw ticking, he stared forward at the two men who _looked_ like his brothers, squaring off.

A familiar black Impala rolled up, bouncing across the uneven ground.

Lucifer stared, eyes narrowed, lips pursed.

Pulling up just short of them, Dean pushed the car into park and then stepped out. "Howdy boys," he greeted, his arm resting on the roof of his car.

" _We're gonna burn this damn place down! Ooh, ooh! Down to the ground…_ "

"Sorry, am I interrupting something?" he asked, eyes narrowed as he looked between them.

…

Chloe knelt next to an old, gnarled tree, trying to steady her breathing and failing miserably. She watched as the Impala made its way through the cemetery, en route for the two very unhappy looking archangels. Her eyes darted to Dean, to the determination in his face. Her hands fisted at her sides; more than anything, she wished she was there with him. But she'd promised… Her eyes fell closed. Which promise mattered more? Sam's or Dean's? Promising to stay with him, take care of him, or live for him?

"Hey," a familiar voice called.

She jumped, turning. Her eyes blinked wildly, surprised to stood before her. "Bobby?"

He nodded shortly, frowning. "What're you doin' back here?"

Her lips pursed. "I've been relegated to the woods…" She rolled her eyes. "Dean's being sacrificial again."

He snorted, half-smiling. "Besides annoying, it's the only mode he's _got_."

She let herself smile. "What're you guysdoing here?" Her eyes darted to the angel behind him, a worried looking Cas watching Dean's progress toward Michael and Lucifer.

"Realizin' you two idjits were right…" He sighed. "We either die out there with those mooks or… we give Dean his chance to save the world." He shrugged. "Might as well go out for a _reason_."

Her expression softened. "Fine, but if you're going, so am I… I've never run from a fight and I won't start now."

As she meant to stand, Bobby reached out and stopped her, a heavy hand on her shoulder. "All you'll do out there is distract him," he told her honestly, eyes searching hers. "He _chose_ you, kid… Now he's just trying to make it worth it."

Her brows furrowed, head shaking. "What d'you mean, he _chose_ me?"

He sighed, looking out as the car came to a stop. "Just do us all a favor and stay hidden, all right?"

She glared at him stubbornly.

"He can't save Sam if he's worried about _you_ …"

Eyes falling, she knew he was right and so she gave a short nod. "What are you going to do?"

He snorted, looking to an equally unsure Cas, who simply shrugged.

She rolled her eyes.

Great, they were going to wing it!

…

Slamming the door, Dean walked forward, eyes set on Lucifer. "Hey… We need to talk."

Lucifer cut a look at Michael, who frowned, eyes rolling. Returning his gaze to Dean, he smiled sarcastically. "Dean… Even for _you_ this is a whole new mountain of _stupid_."

"I'm not talkin' to _you_ , I'm talkin' to _Sam_."

"You're no longer the _vessel_ , Dean," Michael interrupted, shaking his head. "You got no right to be here."

Dean glanced at him, frowning. "Adam if you're in there somewhere, I am _so sorry_."

Michael cocked his head. "Adam isn't _home_ right now."

"Well then you're next on my list, Buttercup, but right now I need five minutes with him."

"You little maggot," he cursed, "You are no longer a part of this story!"

"Hey!" Castiel shouted, breaking out from the cover of the woods and catching them off-guard from where he and Bobby stood to the left of them all in the field. "Assbutt!" He flung a bottle at the archangel.

Screaming, Michael went up in flames, his head thrown back as his skin bubbled and turned black. His echoing holler of pain had Dean flying back against his car and Lucifer lifting an arm to defend himself against both the sound and the licking flames. Yell petering out, Michael disappeared in a cloud of lingering dust. Dean stared in surprise before turning toward Cas. "Assbutt?" he asked, brows furrowed.

He threw his hands up in apology. "He'll be back… And upset." He panted. "But you got your five minutes."

Lucifer turned toward them. "Castiel," he sneered, eyes narrowed darkly. He took a fearsome step forward, asking, "Did you just Molotov my brother… with _holy fire?_ "

Cas stumbled backwards, shaking his head and staring wide-eyed in fear. "Uh… No…" He lifted his hands defensively.

"No one dicks with Michael but me," he growled, lifting a hand and snapping his fingers.

Castiel exploded, bloody chunks flying everywhere, smearing across Bobby's stunned face.

In the woods, Chloe covered a cry of sadness with a hand across her mouth, her eyes wide.

Still bent back against the car, Dean stared, chest heaving, and looked at a shocked Bobby, who panted, desperate for air.

Eyes falling, Dean turned to look at Lucifer. "Sammy?" he asked. "Can ya hear me?"

Lucifer turned his head to look at him, his body following a moment later. He glared, frowning. "You know… I tried to be nice." He took a step toward him. "For Sammy's sake. But you…" He reached forward and grabbed the lapels of Dean's leather jacket, "are such a _pain_ … in my ass." With a shove, he threw him back easily.

Slamming into the glass windshield, the force of Dean's body cracked the glass and he lay, grunting in pain, struggling to sit up.

Eyes narrowed, Lucifer walked toward him, ready to continue his attack.

A shot sounded and a bullet punctured Lucifer's shoulder.

Behind him, Bobby held the Colt and cocked it as Lucifer turned around to face him, his face a mask of rage. Bobby took a second shot.

Looking down at the bleeding hole in his chest, he sneered.

Bobby looked to Dean, shrugging.

Lucifer lifted a hand, twisted his wrist, and snapped Bobby's neck.

"Nooooo!" Dean screamed, his eyes wide as his body lurched forward in agonized denial.

Bobby's dead body hit the ground, slumped over.

Chloe's head fell, her fingers curling into the dirt as she gripped it in fists, her shoulders shaking and silent sobs wracking her.

"Yes." Lucifer turned back, reached forward and pulled Dean toward him before slamming a fist into his jaw and sending him flying back around, blood pouring from his mouth onto the hood of his car. His hand reached forward, catching the dark crimson blood in slight surprise. Breath stuttering out of him, he pushed up and turned back around. "Sammy?" he asked, hope filling his voice still.

Lucifer stared down at him, unmoved.

"Are you in there?"

"Oh, he's in there all right." He punched him again, forcing Dean down sideways against the car once more, groaning in pain. "And he's gonna feel the snap of your bones." Grabbing his jacket, he dragged him back up and slammed his fist straight into the center of his face.

Dean fell face-down on the ground, trying to push himself back up, his arms shaking beneath his body.

"Every single one," Lucifer promised, walking forward to grab him back up and shove him back against the passenger door of the car. "We're gonna take our time." Back and forth, left and right, he punched him, slamming his bloodied fists into Dean's face until he felt the cartilage give way, the bones break and his blood pour.

Swollen, bloody, bruised, Dean reached for him, grabbing his jacket. "Sammy… It's okay… I'm here, I'm here…" he told him through his broken jaw and shattered teeth. "I'm not gonna leave you."

Pulling back from him, Lucifer sneered and drew his fist back hitting him again and again.

"I'm not gonna leave you…"

He pushed him further up the car and shook his head. "A little more encouragement then… You always were a stubborn sonuvabitch." Drawing his hand back, he wiggled his fingers and a cry was heard.

Dean tipped his head back, eyes widening when he saw Chloe being dragged out of her hiding spot in the shrouded woods against her will. Lucifer stepped back, letting Dean fall to the ground before he walked back in front of the car to stare smugly at his catch. "Chloe Sullivan…" His brows furrowed mockingly. "Or should I say _Winchester_ _…?_ I guess congratulations are in order." He looked at Bobby, at the chunks of Cas that littered the dead grass and then glanced to the side to include the broken mess of Dean. "I _did_ promise to destroy everyone you ever loved, didn't I?" His smirk grew. "Unfortunately, plans have a way of changing…"

Hovering just at the tips of her toes on the ground, she glared at him. " _Fuck. You._ "

He chuckled under his breath. "Such a dirty mouth for such a… _beautiful_ little cockroach." He blinked thoughtfully. "I had thought to have you live and see me tear that obnoxious cousin of yours into tiny little pieces, but… I think this will be so much more satisfactory… for _me_." Twirling his finger, he had her spin around in front of him. "A last look then, Dean?" he asked, looking back at the man who crawled across the grass, spitting up blood, shaking his head. "What d'you think? Maybe… a _traditional_ death?" His lips curled as he balled his hand up and then forced it open, fingers spread.

Suddenly, fire burst through Chloe's stomach, blood coating her waist. The flames licked up her body, eating away at her flesh.

"No!" Dean yelled, struggling to his knees. He gripped his ribs, crawling painfully toward her, arm outstretched. "No! Stop! _Please!_ "

Chloe's deathly screams echoed all around as her head fell back and blood poured from her mouth, her eyes, forcing its way out of her seared pores and sending smoke up into the air. She stared down at him, her green eyes bleeding red before she finally died, unable to make another sound as her body fell; a black, charred corpse in the grass.

Tears pouring down his face, Dean slumped next to her body, his blood soaked hands reaching for her, shaking, unable to find the woman he knew beneath the pieces of her that fell apart like burned wood, flaking away, taken by the gusting wind. Her face, her cheeks were the only part of her still human, still flesh. Eyelids burned away, her sightless eyes stared up, warm tears still hovering on her skin. Hands fisting, he leaned his broken face down against hers, his blood mixing with hers, his tears, his swollen face aching and throbbing, going ignored. He couldn't touch her as her body began to disintegrate beneath the weight of his hands. Dragging in air, his lungs stung, his body shook with rage, with pain. He tried to stroke the last of her soot coated hair, the same blonde strands he tucked behind her ear, that fell across her knowing green eyes.

It was all wrong. All wrong.

He could feel hysteria building up inside him.

Cas was dead. Bobby was dead. Sam was lost. And Chloe… Oh God, Chloe…

His eyes slammed shut, his head spinning, and for a moment, all he could see, feel, smell, was _her_. Like his life was flashing before his eyes, he saw it all, only it was snippets of his time with her, of everything he loved about her.

From their first ravenous kiss, the blood pulsing in his veins, something inside of him falling into place like finding the lost puzzle piece in her.

_There was a creak, the door opening, and then silence, as if everybody had shut up and taken notice. That was usually a bad sign so Dean turned in his seat to see what had everybody in awe. A woman; blonde, petite, gorgeous. There was a zing in his chest; a sharp jab of attention. And a breeze; he swore there was a sweep of air that rustled past him. Before he knew what the hell he was doing, he was up, walking across the room and standing in front of her._

_She stared up, her expression one of surprise. Big green eyes bore into him and slowly, her mouth curved into a smile. "Chloe," she said, as if answering the question he hadn't bothered to ask._

_"Dean," he replied._

_And then… Then he was kissing her. A complete stranger and he had his hands buried in her hair and his mouth tangled with hers. She tasted like coffee; like morning bliss and pale sunlight streaming through the window to warm his skin. She was soft and her hips pressed indecently perfect against his own._

_Chloe_ _… Her name whispered in his ears, his senses firing on all cylinders._

There first conversation, full of snark, of suspicion and underlying chemistry.

_As the door of her hotel room opened, Dean stared at the same beauty he'd been kissing not an hour ago. And damn, she looked better than he remembered. He found himself frowning at his own reaction; why the hell was he even here, tracking her down?_

_"You're not the steak and lobster I ordered," she greeted sarcastically._

_Dean's frown twisted in a slight smile. "Musta been a mix up." He lifted a brow, glancing to the side in a show of discomfort. "Can we talk?" Against her good judgment, she let him in, and there was no going back._

And then it was just her voice in his ears, her smile in his eyes…

_"I have a life in Metropolis; a job. Exactly how long do you think this soul mates thing is going to last?"_

_"Whatever it is he and I have to do to get this thing resolved, we'll do it. But when this apocalypse thing is done and over with, we go our separate ways…"_

_"Do I wish this was a different situation? Yes. But we can't change it. We can't change whatever we are to each other or what we're meant to be to each other. And I know that you hate that. I don't even really know you, but I know that. I don't want to be another obstacle you face and I'll do my best not to be. But I'm not going anywhere… We're in this together. Eventually, I hope you'll see that."_

_"If you're that good still wearing pants I'm not sure I can take you in all your glory."_

_"The one time you want to leave me alone and defenseless in the car is when you're sure that these undead people are really zombies?"_

_"Destiny's a bitch and you probably hate it. But here I am and like I've told you before… I'm not going anywhere."_

_"You think when this is all over, anything good'll come of it?"_

_"It doesn't have to end like this… I can meet you. I-I can be there with you… I will be there with you, every step of the way. But you have to believe. In me, in us, in_ yourself _."_

_"Just FYI… I wouldn't mess with your manhood… I rather like it."_

_"I came after you this time because I knew what you were doing was giving up, not fighting like you were meant to. But if next time you turn me away because it means really saving the world, the right way…_ That _I would understand."_

_"Maybe I don't always like what happens or how, but if I was meant to live this very strange life only because it would lead me to you then… I can take the bad if it gives me the good."_

_"What I want… is_ you _. All that other stuff is secondary, i-it's unimportant."_

_"Even humans make mistakes, Dean; huge, massive ones. What matters is that they recognize them…"_

_"I think that Sam knows what's best for him and that I have no say in it, not really… Do I_ want _him to invite Lucifer out to play? No, of course not. But I can't tell him what to think or feel. If he really thinks he can do this, who am I tell him not to?"_

 _"You're going off to meet_ Death _, Dean… I won't let you do that alone."_

_"I promise to be there for you and with you, on the worst and best days of your life. I promise that I will never walk away, never give up, and never want for anything, so long as I have you."_

_"I_ do _."_

_"Hey Husband."_

_"It's real… We're real."_

_"I'm not trying to make you feel better, Dean. Because I_ can't _. There is nothing I can say or do that will make this easier… I'm just trying to be here for you."_

_"Love you."_

_"I love you."_

_"I love you, too."_

And then, her laughter, the sweet ringing in his ears… only to shatter into her screams of agony as she died before his eyes, like his mother and Jess had.

He swallowed the sob swelling in his throat, felt his pulse hammer in his veins, in his chest, in his temples, and then… Warmth. It started in his face, like a tingle, and spread throughout his aching body until he felt only comfort, _content_. He thought, for a moment, that maybe he'd died, too. That losing her was the last straw, that knowing Sammy wasn't savable meant he could finally lay at rest.

But as he sat back on his haunches, he knew the truth. He wasn't broken; his jaw, his face, his very bones, were no longer shattered or snapped. Blood no longer filled his mouth or stained the inside of his throat, building up inside his organs.

Looking up, he stared enraged at the curious Lucifer.

"How… _special_. What are the odds that _revenge_ would be what powered the _Great Dean Winchester?_ " he mocked.

Standing, feeling stronger than he ever had in his life, Dean walked toward him. "It ain't revenge… It's _love_ , you smug bastard." Drawing his arm back, he sent a fist flying into Lucifer's face, watching with a scowl as the devil himself fell backwards to the ground, holding his bleeding mouth in surprise. Reaching down, Dean grabbed him up and lifted him forward until they were face to face once more. "For my _parents_ …" He hit him again and Lucifer flew back, his nose shattered.

Shaking his head, he found himself disoriented, spots before his eyes.

Dean pulled him up once more. "My _friends_ …" With another fist to the face, Lucifer was sent sprawling back, his body sending up dirt as he was physically pushed deep into the ground beneath him.

"My _wife!_ " he said hoarsely, slamming his bloodied hand into Lucifer's battered face again and again and again. Somewhat of a crater had formed beneath him as he was unable to get his bearings enough to even fight back.

"And my _brother_." Kicking him in the stomach, he sent Lucifer flying up out of his hole and dragging twenty feet across dirt and gravel.

As Dean drew his hand back once more, fist shaking, the sun glinted off his wedding band and caught Lucifer's eye. There was a moment, a fraction in time, where Sam was in full control of his mind. And he saw his brother. He saw him during every moment they'd spent fighting this fight; from the time when they were little kids, living a life not meant for children to their adulthood, fighting out of duty or against who they really were. He saw the laughter, the chick-flick moments, the prank wars and mullet rock, he saw the fights and the fear, the near-deaths and the actual deaths. He saw all that his brother had done for him, all that he'd given up. There were mistakes and triumphs, pool and poker, beers and guns. They dug up bodies, they burned bodies, they hunted ghosts and creatures and monsters that went bump in the night. And they argued, constantly; his brother nearly broke his laptop with porn sites and spam, they disagreed on anything to do with John. There were hundreds of different ID's, different disguises and fake names and credit card scams. They were hundreds of lives lived by the two of them, all over the course of one very long road trip.

He saw Jess, chocolate chip cookies, I love you's and fire consuming her. He saw Bobby, his mentor, the father he wished he had and the father he really _did_ have. He saw Cas and coffee, miscommunications and his trying to be more human, more of a friend than an angel. And he saw Chloe. He saw her smile and he heard her understanding voice. He saw her with Dean, he saw her holding him, he felt himself hugging her, he heard her promise in his ear and he saw her dead body lying there in the grass, unable to keep that promise, unable to save Dean from himself or the life.

He saw Dean, standing in front of him, fist poised, anger and rage and sadness and loss all flashing across his face. His brother. The only person in the whole world who would die for him, over and over again, that would die to keep the world alive and kicking, despite having lost faith in humanity one too many times. Despite having lost his wife, the only woman to ever get him, to ever love him like he needed. And Sam shoved Lucifer back into the recesses of his mind, a headache making him cringe in pain.

Struggling to sit up, tasting blood and feeling his own body battered and broken, he croaked "Dean!" He panted desperately, his lungs fighting for breath.

Dean stared down at him, hovering high, his body pulsing, shaking, ready to strike and kill.

"I-It's okay, Dean… It's gonna be okay…"

A tear escaped down Dean's face, falling off his trembling chin. "No… No it's not."

Sam's eyes darted to Chloe and then back. He was right; it wouldn't. But… maybe he could still do the right thing, late as it was. "I've got him… I-I've got him." His eyes fell and he reached into his jeans pocket, searching and finding the ring key. He tossed it angrily to the ground and struggled to stand, hurriedly saying the incantation. His body ached, his head spun, and he could feel Lucifer clawing at him, desperate to get back up, to take over.

The grass gave way, the ground going with it as a hole formed, sucking things down into it like a vortex. Wind sweeping around them, pulling up roots and fallen debris, the door opened wider, waiting, hissing.

Sam turned back to look at his brother, his shoulders heaving with each indrawn breath. They stared at each other a long moment as Sam gathered his courage, as the ground and a headstone fell victim to the door eating away at its surroundings.

He nodded to Dean, a final goodbye, and turned back to the hole.

"Sam!" Michael, in the form of Adam, appeared and shook his head, yelling to him over the roar of the heavy wind. "It's not gonna end this way." He looked past him to the door. "Step back…"

"You're gonna have to _make me!_ " Sam exclaimed, his face screwed up with defiance.

"I have to fight my brother, Sam… Here and now." He nodded. "It's my destiny."

He stared at Michael, his chest heaving for breath, before he looked to Dean for his answer, for understanding. He stared at the brother that stood tall, though his shoulders slouched, his fists stained with Sam's blood, tear tracks going unnoticed by him as he stood just feet from his fallen wife, from the man he considered like a father, from the angel who had not even a human body to call his own any longer. _Destiny_ had given Sam this life, had forced him to be who he was, whether he wanted to be or not. _Destiny_ had given Dean Chloe, only to rip her away from him in the end, leaving him lost, alone and broken. _Destiny_ had killed Jess, his mother, his father, him, his brother, over and over again. _Destiny_ was a foul bitch.

He looked to Dean once more and he knew what he had to do, what he was _meant_ to do. Not because Fate told him to, not because it was written somewhere, but because deep down he knew what was right. An inner-calm masked his face before he closed his eyes, spread his arms out and let himself fall back toward the waiting door of Lucifer's cage. He would lock the bastard up again, even if it meant his own eternity of true hell.

Rushing toward him, shouting "No!" Michael reached for him, grabbing at his jacket to pull him back. And Sam tried to shove him off, tried to do what had to be done, but as they struggled, the weight of his body began to propel them both backward. Together, they toppled into the pit, arms and legs flailing in the wind, reaching and finding nothing to hold on to.

With a snapping crackle and a burst of bright light, the ground righted itself, closing the doorway to Lucifer's cage and leaving Dean behind, alone, to stare down at where his brother had sacrificed himself for the greater good.

There was nothing but grass now, even the grey clouds of before had parted, letting the sun through to light up the cemetery. They key of rings burned hot, sizzling as they sat there on the ground, looking all too innocent for what they'd done.

Mouth trembling, Dean closed his eyes, his chin hitting his chest. The devastation around him only served to bring him to his knees. There, between where the door had torn the ground apart and Chloe lay in a heap of charred flesh, his hands hung useless before him. Despite all that they'd saved, he felt lost, trapped in this surreal moment and wishing… Maybe if he'd told Sam not to say yes, if he'd just let the world burn, things might have turned out a way he'd have been able to handle. But now he was alone, he was… He had no Sammy, no Chloe, hell, not even Bobby to fall back on.

Angry tears burned his eyes, his chest aching with the loss. It was building up inside of him again, the rage and the fear; he didn't know what to do with himself. The darkest part of him wanted to join them, wherever they were, whatever it meant doing to get there. Shoulders slumped, he felt the welling of a scream in his throat and wanted to let it out, let it reach up into the heavens or to wherever God was hiding and let him know just how much he'd royally fucked this up, for _all_ involved. His entire body clenched, muscles tensing, rioting, and he felt that same inner-strength he'd had before drain out of him. His body might have been repaired, but his heart, his soul, quite possibly his _mind_ were all shattered. And there was nobody left to fix him.


	40. Chapter Thirty-Nine

  
  
([dhfreak](http://www.dhfreak.livejournal.com))

**XXXIX**.

Sighing, Chuck ran a hand over his face, shaking his head and frowning at the brightly lit up computer screen.

_Endings are hard. Any chapped-ass monkey with a keyboard can poop out a beginning, but endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass._

_The hero is supposed to live, the bad guy is supposed to die or learn his lesson; blah, blah, blah. And the leading heroine, probably not supposed to go up in smoke. But Dean Winchester is not your average hero, and some wouldn't even call him the good guy. And Chloe, well, she's not average by any means either. Just like their lives have never been normal, neither will their ending be. You see, where one part of life ends, another begins. Whether this life is better, or even easier, is yet to be seen. But while Dean realized that the life he'd known had come to one spectacularly awful twist ending, the life he'd yet to explore still had time left to unfold…_

…

Suddenly, Dean felt a presence at his back and he turned his head, his brows furrowed as he stared up at none other than Castiel. "Cas, you're alive…?" he breathed, confused. He'd seen him literally _explode_ not ten minutes ago, by the devil's hand.

"I'm better than that," he said simply, waving a hand and ridding Chloe's body of the charred blackness that had spread like a disease across her skin.

Still dead, she at least looked like the woman he'd known; her blonde hair fluttering in the wind, brushing her cheeks.

Standing, he looked away from his wife to stare at the angel curiously, brows knotted. "Cas, are you God?" he wondered.

Cas smiled slightly. "That's a nice compliment, but no. Although I do believe he brought me back." Turning, he walked away, adding, "New and improved," before he knelt to touch Bobby's temple, righting his broken neck.

With a snap, Bobby inhaled deeply, opening his eyes and struggling to sit up, looking around in confusion. He stared at Cas a moment, as if trying to make sense of it all. His last memory of the angel being of his body exploding, his blood still marring Bobby's cheek.

With a short nod, Cas stood and returned to Dean before looking down at the fallen Chloe. His jaw clenched tightly as he moved to kneel next to her. "It's the tears borne of the heart that heal the worst of pains," he said, glancing up at Dean.

Frowning, he moved to her other side, cocking a brow questioningly.

Cas sighed, explaining, "When Chloe died, her tears weren't for her own agony, they were for you… She cried because she didn't want you to be alone, she didn't want you to suffer. And those tears protected you, _healed_ you, which is why you were able to beat Lucifer and bring Sam back."

"Healed me _how?_ "

"When she lived in Smallville, she was infected with meteor rocks… They encrusted her heart—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know all that," he interrupted snappishly. "But that power went _away_."

"No… It was hibernating, hidden until the right time." He frowned. "Instead of saving its host, it chose to save you… Because while it surrounded her heart, you were marked there first."

"She always came back, though. She… When she healed someone, she always woke up." Reaching out, he stroked her hair from her face, letting his knuckles drag along her cheek.

Cas shook his head, frowning sadly. "She was dying already, Dean… Not because she saved you."

"So she won't…" Stricken, he stared down at her, chin trembling.

"On her own… no." Reaching forward, Cas meant to touch her temple but Dean stopped him, gripping his wrist just millimeters away from her face.

"Wait… I-Is she… Heaven? Is she in heaven?" he asked hoarsely, staring at the angel searchingly.

Cas stared back at him, brows slightly furrowed. Slowly, he nodded.

"A-And she's safe?" he asked, needing to know even as chest ached acutely. "She's… She's happy o-or content or something."

His lips pursed. "There is ultimate peace there."

"Then wait… Just…" His jaw clenched, fingers fisting tightly. " _Wait_."

"Dean…" Bobby interrupted, shaking his head. "You just lost your brother; you really think you can do this without her?"

"She's _safe_ …" he argued thickly, looking up at him through tear glazed eyes. "From all of this."

"You think that's what she wants?" he half-yelled. "Hell, she's been chasin' after you this whole damn time. She's willing to take the bad with the good, son! You don't turn your back on a woman like that!"

"Damn it, Bobby!" he growled hoarsely. "You're the one who told me I was a fool for gettin' involved with her in the first place."

"So she grew on me!" he growled. "Hell, I'm not made of _stone!_ Girl's got a lotta spunk!"

"It's not entirely up to you," Cas interrupted, his voice firm. "This war is _not_ over."

They turned to look at him, worried now. _What the hell did_ that _mean?_

"This was one battle won, but with Michael and Lucifer warring in hell there's sure to be more to come." He stared at Dean. "And I told you… Soul mates are not meant for lives lived apart." With that, he touched her temple and with a jolt of life, her chest heaved as she inhaled desperately, her green eyes flying wide open.

Despite his protests, Dean hurriedly gathered her up into his arms, buying his face against her neck and clutching tight to her hair. For a moment, he just breathed her in, chest heaving as he inhaled thick and heavy. He squeezed her so tight, he was sure she would protest or choke for lack of air, but he couldn't force himself to loosen his arms. Seeing here there, screaming, crying, bleeding, _dying_ … He shuddered, his body tightening up so much it physically hurt.

Hugging him back, she asked worriedly, "Sam?"

Remembering his brother, the look on his face as he let go and fell back, Dean shook his head quickly, his chest aching with the knowledge. As if he could hold her any closer, he tried. Taking a shuddering breath, he let himself cry, let himself break in her arms. For his brother, for losing her and getting her back, for knowing that after everything… it _still_ wasn't over.

…

Dean's eyes bounced from the road to the rearview mirror. Chloe had offered to ride with Bobby, knowing he needed to have a talk with Cas and she'd only be in the way. He felt out of sorts though, not having her there, within sight. His hands twisted restlessly against the steering wheel. Speeding down the dark, wet highway, the Impala purred beneath him, the only sound filling the thick silence. Turning his head toward the angel, he asked, "What are yougonna do now?"

Cas's eyes stayed forward, head tipped in thought. "Return to heaven, I suppose."

Head cocked, his brows furrowed disagreeably. "Heaven?"

"With Michael in the cage, I'm sure it's total anarchy up there."

"So, what?" he asked sarcastically, "You're the new sheriff in town?"

Cas looked at him, smiling slightly and letting out a small chuckle. "I like that. Yeah. I suppose I am."

"Wow." He shook his head. "God gives you a brand-new shiny set of wings and suddenly you're his bitch again."

"I don't know _what_ God wants," he argued. "I don't know if he'll even return. It just..." He sighed, looking away. "Seems like the right thing to do."

"Well, if you do see him, you tell him I'm comin' for him next." His lip curled in a sneer, eyes narrowing.

Cas turned to look at him, his brows knotted.

Dean met his searching stare with a stubborn one of his own.

"You're angry."

He looked away. "That's an understatement."

"He helped."

Dean scoffed.

"Maybe even more than we realize."

"That's easy for you to say," he snarled. "He brought you back. But what about Sam? Huh?" His voice raised with his anger. "After all this, where's my _grand prize_? All I got is my brother _in a hole_!"

Cas stared at him speculatively. "You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell." He shook his head, frowning. "Just more of the same."

Dean's knuckles turned white with pressure around the wheel.

"I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? _Peace_ or _freedom_?"

Brows heavy atop his eyes, he glared out at the highway. And when he turned to reply, he found the passenger seat empty. Shaking his head, he sighed, "Well, you really suck at goodbyes, y'know that?"

And he drove on, alone, wondering just which one he really got.

His peace was riding in the van behind him, but his freedom lived on as he and the world kept kicking. Had he really expected Cas or God to fix it all when it was finally over? For him to get the ultimate prize in having his wife, his brother, and a world that continued spinning? In the end, he got two out of three… But it wasn't enough to satisfy him.

…

"We knew we were gonna lose Sam," Bobby sighed, frowning out at the road. "Feels like we expected different."

Chloe wiped at her face, tears had been falling for awhile now, slipping out her eyes without her say-so, unwilling to stop. "Maybe we're all a lot more optimistic than any of us knew…"

He scoffed. "And maybe it'll rain skittles t'morrow."

She snorted, her mouth curling in a smile more for him than her. "You think…" She looked over at him, brows furrowed, eyes desperately hopeful, "You think Sam's okay?"

Bobby sighed, pursing his lips. "Ya want the honest answer?"

She stared at him a long moment, lifted a hand to swipe the fallen tear and shook her head. "No," she whispered, returning to stare out the window.

She already knew. Sam was gone, lost to them, and much as she wished it different, he was never coming back.

…

Compared to their usual road trips, the drive from Lawrence to Sioux Falls was just over five hours, thanks in part to Bobby and Dean's speeding. When they arrived at Singer Salvage, Chloe noticed the lack of angel in the passenger seat and passed a confused look to Dean.

"Went back to heaven, thought he'd clean up the place," he muttered, a scowl permeating his mouth.

She frowned. She couldn't decide what was best for Cas, but… He was her friend and some part of her thought he belonged there with them, angel or not. But then, heaven wasn't exactly on an even playing field lately and maybe it needed someone like him to sort it out. She knew Dean didn't agree.

"Heaven?" Bobby scoffed, his lips pursed. "He knows there ain't no coffee up there, don't he?"

It produced the smiles they all needed, though Dean's was strained, forced.

"You, uh… You two hungry?" he asked them, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I could fix us up somethin'."

Dean looked at her, as if asking what she wanted to do. They had options but none of them sounded as appealing as sticking close to the comfort of Bobby's place. It was either go back on the road and return to Dean's life of hunting, return to Metropolis and fall back in with her old crowd while Dean worked some auto garage nearby, or… or stay with this family they'd made with Bobby. Much as they were trying to hide it, she thought the two of them needed each other right now. Bobby was hurting, having lost a boy he thought of as his son, and Dean… Dean lost both his best friend and his brother when Sam sacrificed himself. She wasn't sure she could be the only person who held him together.

"I'm hungry," she decided, even if her stomach revolted against the idea of food. Because they had to stay, they had to make an effort, and until they knew exactly what kind of life they were looking at in the near future, she didn't want to make any big decisions.

"All right then," Bobby said, stepping back toward the house.

Chloe turned toward Dean, chewing her lip in worry. "You wanna talk about it?" she asked, though she knew the answer already.

His eyes were turned, staring off in the distance. "No," he said simply.

She nodded, getting it. But it didn't stop her from walking forward and wrapping her arms around him, burying her face against his chest. It took a minute for him to return her embrace, for his arms to tighten around her and his chin to perch on her head. But eventually, he let himself take comfort in her and she hoped he would continue to do just that, because he had a hard road up ahead of him. He was becoming Dean without Sam and she was scared for him; she just wasn't sure he'd come out okay when it was all said and done. Regardless, she would keep her promise to both of them. Like she'd told Sam, she would be there to watch out for Dean, no matter what came. And as she'd vowed to Dean, she would be there for and with him, on the worst and best days of his life. She would never walk away, never give up and never want for anything, so long as she had him.

Eventually, together, they walked hand-in-hand to Bobby's house.

…

Dinner was a somber event, the food rather tasteless, though not for any mistake on Bobby's part. They sat at the table, all unable to ignore the fact that not just one but _two_ were missing from their usual crowd. Chloe had to remind herself not to make two pots of coffee, one for Cas alone, when only one would suffice. Dean was forced to put away an extra plate and cutlery since Sam wasn't there to use them.

The house was loud with silence, overwhelmingly empty, and they all felt it, all tried to ignore it and failed miserably. This would be what it was now; three and not five. A husband and a wife, no brother-in-law. There was only the scraping of forks on plates, the ticking of a nearby clock, and the vengeful silence that surrounded them. They remained quiet until Chloe left for dessert, returning with a freshly baked pie, the aroma perking their senses. She laid it down in the center of the table and stepped back, hands on her hips.

"Karen's recipe…" she told them, trying to smile. "Secret ingredient and all."

Bobby and Dean stared at the nicely browned pie, steam coming out of the small slices along the top.

Clearing his throat, Bobby said, "I'll, uh, take a piece there, Sully."

She served it out on a plate and handed it to him, glancing at Dean wonderingly. He gave her a nod and she handed him one as well before sitting down to take a bite of her own.

"It's good," he told his wife, digging in with a little more vigor than before.

"Real good," Bobby agreed.

She smiled.

"So what was it?" Dean wondered.

"What was what?"

He looked from the pie to her. "The secret…"

Her lips pursed. "I can't tell you."

He cocked a brow, scoffing under his breath. "Can't or won't?"

She grinned. "Won't."

Eyes narrowed at her, he cut off another piece and popped it in his mouth. "Cinnamon?"

"Nope."

Following suit, Bobby too tried to guess. "Nutmeg?"

"No."

"Brown sugar?"

"Uh-uh."

And so it continued. It wasn't a serious breakthrough, small in the grand scheme. And she had no delusions that pie was going to solve their many problems, but… it was a start. It was communication. It was _trying_. And she'd take what she could get.

…

Chuck stared thoughtfully at his screen, his fingers moving with calculated precision.

_Chloe and Dean don't leave Bobby's that night or the next. In fact, unlike in the past when Dean and Bobby had gone weeks, months, even years, without seeing each other, they will soon become regular fixtures in each other's lives. And, for the record, at this point next week, Bobby will be hunting a Rugaru outside of Dayton. But not Dean. Because Dean made a promise to get away from the life, to put down roots somewhere and live that apple-pie existence with Chloe. She, however, **will** be hunting that Rugaru, much to Dean's constant chagrin. And while he argues with her that she isn't made for hunting, she picks up the sawed-off like it was made to fit in her hand. _

_Finally giving in he lets her go and he stays behind to keep his promise as best he can. But he continues to struggle with his own demons, day in and day out. Every part of him, every fiber he's got, wants to find a way to bring Sam back. He is lost without his brother and barely scraping by; he's holding on to Chloe and pushing her away at the same time._

_Dean is not going to find a way to bring Sam back but then, he doesn't quite keep his promise either…_

…

Standing outside, beneath a blinking security light that lit up Singer Salvage, discouraging trespassers, Lucifer watched as Dean, Bobby and Chloe shared a pie. The light above blinked out and he cocked his head, eyes surveying their pitiful exchange of pleasantries, trying their best to ignore the elephant in the room.

"You see?" he asked aloud, eyes narrowing. "This is my last favor, Sam… I won't kill them. _Again_. At least…" He smiled. "Not tonight." As his gaze fell, he stared at the puddle at his feet, at the vision of Sam glaring back at him. "I would think you'd be happy. They _lived,_ didn't they?"

"Not with any help from you," he snarled.

He pursed his lips. "They interrupted a very important meeting with my brother…" He scowled viciously. "You're lucky I'm not tearing them to pieces right now."

"And why _aren't_ you?"

"Because…" He grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"

His foreboding words had Sam looking worriedly toward his family. After all they'd suffered, all they'd been through and lost, what more could be done to them?

…

Later that night, after she and Dean had put away the leftovers and did the dishes, after Bobby had left for his study to mourn with a bottle of scotch, they left upstairs for some much needed sleep.

Dean sat at the edge of their bed, undoing his watch from his wrist, his head bowed.

Crawling up behind him, Chloe wrapped her arms around his chest, laying her head atop his shoulder.

He squeezed her forearm in reply, resting his chin against it. "I don't…" He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know what to do."

Swallowing thickly, she raised a hand to stroke down his face, from his temple to along the shell of his ear and down his neck. "You've got the world's best researcher by your side… We'll find a way to get him back."

He frowned, eyes falling closed. "I promised him," he admitted hoarsely. "Said I wouldn't try and get him out."

She felt a tear slip from his face onto her arm and her body clenched, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. Right then, she came to a conclusion that she knew her brother-in-law wouldn't agree with. Feathering her fingers through his hair, she kissed the pulse at his neck and said, "I didn't."

His body tensed for only a fraction of a second but when he relaxed she knew that he wouldn't stop her, that he'd accept this bending of the rules. She didn't know how, she didn't even know if it was really possible, but some way she was going to get Sam Winchester out of the devil's cage. He was family and he belonged with them.

Besides, like she'd always said, the Winchesters were all too sacrificial. It was time she rectified that.

...

_So, what's it all add up to? It's hard to say. But me, I'd say this was a test... For Sam and Dean and even Chloe. And I think they did all right. Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny, love, and God himself. They made their own choice. They chose family, they chose each other. And, well... Isn't that kinda the whole point?_

Lifting his glass of whiskey, he downed it whole.

_No doubt - endings are hard. But then again..._

He smirked knowingly.

_Nothing ever really ends, does it?_

Chuck stared at the screen, smiling at his accomplishment. Satisfied that his work was done, that this part of his test had been completed, he vanished into thin air and decided a visit to his personal gardener, Joshua, was in order. He had Stage Two to still work out. After all, even _God_ needed a little help sometimes…

[ **End**.]


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